Schism
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Written for the NFA Under McCover Challenge. Tim-centered. Tim goes undercover, much to the dismay of his team...and he knows it. Which will be worse? The op or the derision of his coworkers? Already complete. This is part one of a trilogy. The other two stories are Not Destroyed and Another Leap in the Dark.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Written for the NFA Under McCover Challenge. This is a _very_ long story. 43 chapters in all. It's very Tim-centered with the team, Ducky and a bit of Vance, plus some of my OCs. As usual, I've done too much research for this and it probably still hasn't been enough. If I get something wrong, let me know. :) Otherwise, enjoy the very long road. Some small spoilers for season 7, but nothing detailed.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine! Not mine! I do not own NCIS, nor do I own the characters, nor am I making any money off this story. Any recognizable dialogue belongs to DPB.

* * *

**Schism  
**by Enthusiastic Fish

**Chapter 1**

"This isn't going to be a piece of cake, McGee."

"I didn't expect it to be."

"It will be very dangerous. You can never let your guard down. Not ever."

"I know."

"When you're going undercover, you aren't _acting_ like the person...you have to _be_ that person."

"Can I ask you one question?"

"Shoot."

"Do you trust me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you trust me? Do you trust that I have the skills, the ability and the knowhow to pull this off?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Then, let's not waste time on this. If I'm going to get in there, track down these guys, and get you any information...let's focus on that...not on what you're afraid of."

"Tough talk."

"If you keep harping on it, I'm going to freak out. All right? Does that make you feel any better?"

"Of course it does, Probie. You're being way too calm about it."

"I'm being who I have to be. Why not start now?"

"That's the other thing."

"What?"

"Don't forget that you're not really this guy."

"You just said I have to _be_ him. Which is it?"

"It's both. That's why going deep undercover is so hard. You have be your created identity, but you also can't forget that you're someone else. Otherwise, you'll get lost."

"How do you do it?"

"I wish I could tell you. You just have to find a way."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Thomas Allen MacKay smiled as he stepped out of his new apartment. It wasn't much. In fact it was crap, but that didn't matter so much because he wasn't in this place for its cushy residential offerings. He was here on business...the kind of business that takes time.

"_Don't overdo it, McGee. This is just the beginning. Take your time."_

Tim winced. It was jarring to hear his name. "Please, stop calling me that when I'm going out. This is hard enough as it is. Let me be my identity, okay?"

"_Yes, sir. Don't mind me trying to help you out."_

"I appreciate the help, not the interference."

"_Cut the chatter. Get going."_

"Yes, Boss," Tim said. He took a deep breath and gathered all the information about his created identity that he could recall at the moment and draped it over himself, like a second skin. He didn't fit easily in it at the moment, but this was to be long term, deep undercover...if he could get in. He had to start somewhere.

Straightening his shoulders, Thomas headed out of the building, down the sidewalk...to the club.

"Haven't seen you around here before," the bartender remarked over the music.

"I just moved into the neighborhood, checking out the scene," Thomas said. He scanned the club. "Not bad."

"You're not drinking much."

"Too much would cloud my thinking. I think deep thoughts," Thomas said with a hint of a smile. "Don't worry. I'll give you business. How are the chicks in this place?"

"Paying or free?"

"Either," Thomas said with a negligent shrug. "I'm not too picky." He looked around the crowded space. "How about her?" He pointed to a blonde...or rather part of her hair was blonde. She also had streaks of red, bright fire-engine red.

"She's free...if you can get her. I haven't seen too many successful attempts."

Thomas looked at her again, more appraisingly. "She takes work, then?"

"Lots of it."

"Expensive?"

"You could probably get a hooker more easily."

"Easy doesn't mean better."

"True enough."

"Does she mind the attention?"

"Not so far as I've noticed. Why you pumping me for information?"

Tim had a moment of panic...and then remembered Thomas again.

"Bartenders are supposed to know everything, right? You noticed me being new. I figured you might have an in on the chicks...keeping things friendly around here."

He chuckled...and Tim relaxed, eased back into Thomas' persona.

"As long as you don't treat her like a broad, she'll keep things friendly...but a word to the wise?"

"I'm open to suggestions."

"She says no...take her at her word. She don't fool around. You act too pushy and she'll mop your pretty face on the floor."

Thomas grinned. "Advice taken and filed away as valuable. I think I'll give her a try."

"Aiming high?"

"I don't know where else to aim."

The bartender rolled his eyes but gave him an encouraging gesture. Thomas leaned away from the bar and headed to the blonde.

"Hey," he said over the music. "You willing to...take a chance?"

The blonde turned and looked him up and down. "Why should I?"

"Any reason you see why you shouldn't?"

"How much of a chance are you asking for?"

Thomas smiled, enjoying the exchange. "How much are you willing to risk? A name? A drink? ...more?"

"How about we start with the name and go from there?"

"Thomas MacKay."

"Julia."

"A last name to go with that?"

"Yes, but not for you to know. Not yet."

"Are you willing to go farther?"

"Give me money and I'll buy my own drink. Girl can't be too careful these days."

"True enough."

"You looking for a score or something else?"

"I'm testing the waters. You looked like the best of the lot."

"And you deserve the best?"

"Trying to get less than the best means that I'm settling. I don't settle."

Julia reached out and patted Thomas on the cheek. "I don't, either." She stood up and then leaned over and whispered in his ear. "But feel free to try again tomorrow, Mac."

She wove through the crowd and disappeared.

Thomas stayed for a while longer, mingling, chatting up a few other girls. Then, after midnight, he headed for his apartment.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim walked in the door and breathed heavily. He'd never felt so tense in his life.

"_Wow, Probie. Very not bad. Why is it that you never act like this when I drag you out places?"_

"Because that's not me, Tony," Tim said.

"_Very smooth. I approve. I think I like Thomas."_

Tim rolled his eyes. "Great. How do you think it went?"

"_You got people's attention but didn't push anything. It was excellent."_

"_Not bad, McGee."_

Tim smiled wearily. It was about time they had something positive to say about what he was doing. "Thanks, Boss. When will I have to start worrying about the merchandise?"

"_Wait until you get more established. We don't want to make it look like you're trying to move in on their territory."_

"Well, I'm going to be doing a lot more than that if we can get in."

"_If _you_ can get in, Probie."_

"Right. If _I_ can get in." He looked around the apartment. "Everything transmitting all right?"

"_Clear as a bale, McGee."_

Tim gave an exhausted laugh. "I don't think I've ever been more tired."

"_Hard work is good for you. It'll get easier."_

Tim sat up and looked over at the video camera. "I'm glad...but is it okay that it also worries me a bit?"

"_As long as it doesn't make you screw up, McGee."_

"It won't, Boss. I promise. Anything on the bartender?"

"_Don't you worry about that for now. We have a lot of work to do on our end. You just be MacKay."_

"Is it all right if Thomas goes to bed now?"

"_Sweet dreams, McGee."_

Tim laughed and got off the moth-eaten couch. He kicked off his shoes and fell onto the bed, asleep almost instantly.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"He really got into it, Boss," Tony said. "Except for one little waver, McGee might as well have _been_ MacKay."

"Good."

"I must admit that I was surprised," Ziva said. "He did much better than I expected." She laughed. "He has never been so suave."

Gibbs stared at the camera on Tim sleeping.

"Tony?"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"You make sure that you keep McGee connected with us. Don't let him get in too deep."

Tony followed Gibbs' gaze and nodded. "Will do, Boss."

"I want to take down this drug ring as much as the Navy does, but I don't want to sacrifice McGee to do it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_One month later..._

Thomas sat at the bar, chatting idly with one of the regulars. It was early yet in the day; only a few people were hanging around. It was easier to have a real conversation. Someone came up behind him. He was careful turn the non-earwigged ear toward her. He felt her breath as she whispered to him.

"Hey, Mac, where you been the last few days?"

Thomas smiled and turned around slowly, easing an arm around Julia's waist. "Out and about. I have business."

"Ah, yes, the elusive, oft-mentioned, never-defined 'business'."

Thomas raised his eyebrows suggestively. "You miss me, then, Julia?"

"You're different from the other guys who hang out here. Different is good. For now."

"Casting me off already?"

"I don't stick with anyone for long. You amuse me, Mac. Particularly since you haven't laid an ungentlemanly finger on me yet." She pressed herself close and whispered, "When are you going to get naughty? Or do your deep thoughts not allow for that?"

"I can get naughty. Here I was thinking I was courting a lady." He tightened his grip and leered. "If you wanted to be treated like a filthy strumpet, I could have obliged a long time ago."

Julia laughed. "Filthy strumpet? I think I like that. Yes, kind sir, treat me like a filthy strumpet tonight."

"Anytime, anyplace, Jewel."

"You coming back here tonight?"

"If you're going to be here."

"I know a place in the back. We'll be...undisturbed."

"Sounds good to me. I'd better get my...business taken care of quickly." He released her and stood up.

"In a hurry?"

"I get the best because I plan ahead. If I do what I need to do now, then we'll have all the more time to be...undisturbed." He smiled and trailed a finger across her bare shoulders. Julia shivered and then leaned forward and breathed gently in his ear.

"I'll be waiting."

"I'll be anticipating."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim managed to avoid showing any of his self-revulsion until he got back to his apartment...but it was a near thing.

"_Well done, McGee. You've got a live one. She's taking you into the back. That's what we've been wanting. It's impossible to get back there without permission."_

Tim didn't say anything he, pulled off his shirt and walked into the bathroom.

"_Probie?"_

No answer. Tim couldn't explain, couldn't say what was wrong. He didn't want to say what was wrong. He couldn't admit that he hated what he was doing, that he wanted to quit, that he wished he had never agreed to do this.

"_Hey, McGee, what's up?"_

"I'm going to have to...tonight...Tony."

"_I heard her. A very willing participant."_

Tim moaned softly.

"_Oh, don't worry about that, McGee. It's not a big deal."_

"Not a big deal? Are you crazy? I...I watch what's happening between them and I think it's...awful. Thomas is using her. I'm using her. She doesn't care. She knows she's being used by Thomas. She's using him, too. She...doesn't know who it really is and..." He leaned over the sink, turned on the water and began splashing it on his face.

"_Can you do this, McGee? Can you handle it? If you can't, then you're only going to ruin your chances by trying."_

Tim shook his head, knowing they couldn't see him in here. Not being able to do it wasn't the problem. It was just the opposite. Thomas would do it. That's the kind of person he was. He would do it and enjoy it. It was Tim who had the problem, and he wouldn't be there...but at the same time, Tim knew, it was still Timothy McGee doing it. Just because he personally chose to compartmentalize himself like this didn't mean that there was any difference between what Thomas did out there and what Tim did in here. He hated himself as much as he hated Thomas. ...and yet, Tony seemed impressed, even enjoyed what was going on when Tim played the part. That was possibly the worst part: this amoral person Tim hated so much was admired by his coworker.

"_McGee. McGee!"_

"I can handle it, Tony."

"_Are you sure?"_

Thomas nodded. "It's a cinch. It won't be a problem."

"_Hey, McGee."_

Tim breathed in and out heavily. "I can do it, Tony." He forced a laugh even as he felt a little nauseous. "She won't know what hit her."

"_That's the spirit, McGee. Just get yourself ready for tonight. Rock her world."_

Tim closed his eyes tight and waited until he felt calm again.

"I guess I'd better get my rest then."

Tim looked at himself in the mirror.

Thomas smiled.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim slept for a few hours and then got up and opened his closet, revealing Thomas' clothes. He stared at them wishing he didn't have to put any of them on. To be honest, they weren't extremely different from his own. Slightly more svelte than he himself wore, a little more expensive...but not overly different. ...but they belonged to Thomas, a personality Tim hated the more he allowed him to evolve into a fully-developed entity.

"Tony?"

"_About time you got up, McGee. It's nearly ten. Julia is going to get impatient."_

Tim winced.

"I think I'm going to need to dump the earwig tonight."

"_Don't want us to hear your moves, Probie?"_

"Tony...please. Be serious. She's likely to see it...given...what she's done so far." He took a quick breath.

"_McGee, you sure about that?"_

Tim straightened a little at the voice. "Yeah, Boss. It will be too much of a risk...if I'm..."

"_Oh, say the word, Probie. You're going to sex up the hot chick."_

Tim looked at the camera and glared.

"You know, Tony, not everyone in the world is as...boorish as you."

"_You're certainly doing a great job of it."_

"_Can it, DiNozzo. McGee, if you're going without the earwig, then someone is going to be there, too."_

"That's fine. I don't care," Thomas said. "I won't see them. I'll be...busy."

"_McGee, you all right?"_

"Fine. I'm fine. I'd better get going. Who's going to be there?"

"_Probably DiNozzo. I don't think I could keep him away."_

Tim smiled weakly.

"Have a nice time, Tony."

"_Oh, I will. You, too. Enjoy the schmoozing."_

Tim walked to the door, pulled out the earwig and set it on the table. Then, he stepped out into the hallway.

Thomas smiled. "Oh, I will."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Without the occasional wisecracks from Tony, there was no difficulty maintaining Thomas as the dominant persona. He was passed into the club fairly quickly. Julia had dyed her hair. There was almost no blonde visible now. The red was still there, but she had died her blonde locks silver with blue tips. She grinned when she saw him. Abandoning the man she'd been chatting up, she wove through the crowd to him.

"Hey, Mac," she said. "I was wondering if you weren't going to show."

"With the promise of time with you? Never."

"Good. Let's go." She was probably six inches shorter than he was and had to go on tiptoe to reach his lips. Instead, she kissed his neck and then laughed and pulled away, forcing Thomas to follow her. He brushed past someone who looked familiar, but all his attention was on Julia; so he ignored the thought.

At the door to the exclusive rear of the club, Julia paused, waiting for him to catch up. Then, she knocked. The door opened and admitted her. She nodded at a shadowed alcove beyond the door and pulled Thomas with her.

"Come on, Mac."

"What's all this?" he asked, not looking around much, but filing away the details nonetheless.

"Special backroom business."

Thomas inhaled deeply and caught a smell.

"Interesting business," he commented, emphasizing the word slightly.

Julia stopped short and stared at him.

"Come on, Jewel. You can't leave me hanging."

Her eyes scanned him from head to toe. "I wouldn't do that. Let's go."

She pulled him into a room. There was wild music playing and she whirled into the rhythm. The beat dragged Thomas along as she pressed a pill into his hand. He looked at it.

Tim recognized the pill for what it was. They'd seen a lot of these from the base at Norfolk, from the Marine base near NCIS, even from Quantico.

"Come on, Mac. Don't disappoint me now." Julia popped it into her mouth and her eyes dared him.

Tim didn't know what to do...but Thomas did. Smiling, he followed Julia's lead.

"I don't normally indulge like this, Jewel. You'd better be worth it."

"Oh, I am...even without it. With it...you'll never be satisfied by anyone else."

She pulled him back into the dance, gyrating with all the other couples in the room...until she pointed to one of the padded seats...beds off to the side. Thomas pulled her close.

"Been waiting all night, Jewel. I won't wait anymore."

"You don't have to." She laughed wildly. "Treat me like a filthy strumpet."

He threw her down onto the bed. "Your wish is my command."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony had a convincing expression on his face, but he couldn't help feeling worried. Tim had been in that room for hours. Gibbs was outside and Ziva was elsewhere inside, but Tim was totally out of contact with them.

He didn't see very many of the regulars Tim had reported on and covertly taken photos of over the past few weeks.

"_McGee is coming out, Tony. He does not appear injured...merely... tussled,"_ Ziva's voice reported in his ear, sounding amused.

Tony looked over and sure enough. Tim came out, arm in arm with Julia...disheveled.

"Way to go, Probie," he whispered. "Knew you had it in you."

He watched as Julia leaned up to whisper in his ear and Tim laughed and then swatted her on the behind. It looked as though he had managed to get over his worry.

"_It looks as though he is leaving, Gibbs."_

"_Good. Pull out, back to base. We'll get his report when he reaches his apartment."_

Tony stood and strolled out. No worries, no stresses, just a guy ready to go home. He let Tim get ahead of him and watched as he got into his car and drove away. He hadn't even made eye contact. Not once.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim closed the door and made a beeline for the bathroom. Once inside, he turned on the water full blast and promptly threw up in toilet. He knew he'd have to report soon, that they would be expecting him, that they'd even go so far as to call him if he didn't reconnect soon, but he felt literally sick and full of self-loathing at the things Thomas...at the things _he_ had done. Julia had seemed to enjoy it, but he couldn't believe he had...and a part of him had enjoyed every moment. He'd never had ecstasy before. He'd never experienced that intense sensory enhancement.

He began to cry, sitting on the floor of the bathroom. After a few minutes, he reached out and flushed the toilet.

_What am I going to tell them? I took ecstasy. I...what I did...to Julia. How much do they need to know?_

The part of him that approved of Thomas interjected, _Why tell them any of that at all? They didn't care that you were worried. Don't you be worried either. It's all about need to know, isn't it? They don't need to know about...any of that. All they care about is what goes on in the back. You can tell them something, even if it's not everything._

Part of Tim wanted to confess it all, wanted to pull out, wanted to give up on all of it. Part of him knew he _couldn't _pull out, not after all the work that had gone into this so far: surveillance on the club, the late-night attempts to tap into their servers, the money that had been devoted to breaking this drug ring completely. ...and a part of him wanted it to continue. That was the worst part.

_Two against one. Majority rules._

His phone rang.

Another deep breath and Tim got up.

"_McGee, what's up?"_

"What do you mean?"

"_You've been in the bathroom for a long time, Probie."_

"There weren't any bathrooms in the back," Tim said and laughed coarsely.

"_What's going on back there?"_ Gibbs asked.

"What we thought. I smelled it. There's drug processing going on in the back, but...this can't be their main spot for manufacturing it. Not enough room."

"_What else is going on back there, then?"_

"Raves...for special clients. Julia is one of them. A lot of the regulars. You don't get in if you're not invited." He kept his voice flat, unemotional.

"_Have you seen any of the ones holding the purse strings?"_

"Not yet. I get the feeling that Julia knows them, though. I think I might get introduced to them soon."

"_Why do you say that?"_

"Because she caught a hint I dropped."

"_So...McGee,"_ Tony began, his voice suggestive. _"...how did it...go?"_

Tim forced himself to roll his eyes rather than reveal his own horror. He was therefore able to smile when he heard the telltale _thwack!_

"_You seem out of sorts, McGee,"_ Ziva said. _"Are you all right?"_

"_Probie just lost his virginity, Ziva. Don't..."_

_Thwack!_

"_Thanks, Boss."_

"I'm fine, just tired is all. I'm going to...get some sleep. Anything else you need, Boss?"

"_Not for now. Keep us updated. We'll work out a time for a full report and meeting on the weekend."_

"Yes, Boss."

Tim hung up the phone in relief...and headed back to the bathroom. He took a long, hot shower and tried not to remember what had happened, what he had done. Then, he went back out to the bedroom, lay down.

...and stared at the ceiling...

...for hours.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_Four days later..._

Tim was sitting in the bathroom on the floor again, this time just to get some space away from the cameras, away from surveillance. He knew it was safer this way, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it. When he was in here, he could relax from the tension of always performing. If he wasn't being Thomas, he had to be completely collected in front of the team. He couldn't let them see how hard a time he was having.

"_McGee."_

"Yeah?"

"_Take out the earwig and go for a walk."_

"Which direction?"

"_North."_

"Okay."

Tim got up. He didn't particularly want to talk to Gibbs right now. Ever. He was certain that the first time he got a chance to really look in Tim's eyes, he'd know everything. He'd know that Tim...no that _Thomas_ had been having sex with Julia in the back room every night, that he'd taken ecstasy that one time, that...that...that he kind of wanted to take it again. He'd been relieved that there'd been no uncontrollable urge, just the desire to duplicate a pleasant experience. A _very_ pleasant experience.

_No, you didn't like that! You hated it!_

_Maybe _you_ didn't like it, but _I_ did._

Tim hated when he started arguing with himself in his head.

"_McGee!"_

"Coming, Boss."

He looked at himself in the mirror, was satisfied that he was still himself and then left his apartment.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

As he walked down the street, he took on the slow confident stride of Thomas MacKay. He didn't need discovery just because he'd let his guard down for a few minutes.

Thomas smiled suggestively at a shapely woman who passed him going the other way. She returned the grin, but he kept right on walking. He could have any woman he wanted, but he had the best one for now. When he got tired of Julia, there were others. Always another one.

Tim walked north for about half a mile and came to a bench on the sidewalk. He headed toward it until he saw the car. He changed direction and got inside.

"Anyone follow you?" Gibbs asked.

Thomas laughed. "No one followed me. They're all busy with...other things."

Gibbs gave him a look.

Tim swallowed. "No, Boss."

"Okay." He put the car in gear and drove...but not to their base of operations. Instead, Gibbs drove to a large park. He stopped the car beside a pond and got out. Tim followed.

"Boss? What's going on?"

"Have a seat, McGee."

"Okay."

Tim sat down on a bench, feeling awkward. He hadn't been to a place like this in...well in over a month. He had been living in the rundown, dangerous areas...the places where the drug dealers were obviously running their supply. In fact, the park was so beautiful, so green, so...lovely, that Tim found himself feeling that he didn't belong there anymore, not with the knowledge that he had someone like Thomas inside him, not knowing that he could be someone like Thomas MacKay.

"McGee?"

"Yeah?"

"How you doing?"

"Fine. She was asking me some probing questions last night. I'm pretty sure that they'll be–"

"That's not what I mean. How are _you_ doing?"

Tim shrugged with what he hoped was unconcern. "I'm fine, Boss. It's nice to get out of that place, but... I'm fine."

_Thwack!_

"Hey!" Thomas sat up, offended at the treatment.

Tim blinked and looked away.

"What was that?" Gibbs asked mildly.

Tim flushed and looked out at the pond. "Sometimes...I feel like Thomas."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that...I feel like...like he's a part of me, a part that...I wish I could cut out."

_Not really, though, right?_

Tim closed his eyes.

"I don't like what he does, Boss. I don't like who he is."

"McGee, you're not supposed to like him."

Tim shook his head. "But I didn't..." he began loudly.

"Didn't what?"

"I didn't think...that it would be so easy to...to _be_ him. Tony and Ziva kept telling me how hard it was to _be_ the person, but it's not. It's easy, Boss. It's easy for me to be Thomas MacKay."

"That worries you?"

"No...not exactly."

"Then, what is it?"

Tim stood up and walked away from Gibbs, knowing that he needed to say it, knowing that he needed to confess what he'd done, but not wanting to admit it, not wanting to let it be known just how much he _was_ being Thomas. Which was the worse confession? Taking drugs or becoming one's persona? He didn't know and he didn't want to confess to either one since Gibbs had obviously not understood. He lengthened his stride in an effort to escape, although he knew it would be only temporary.

Gibbs caught up with him after about ten steps.

"Hey, McGee!"

Tim whirled around and his guilty secret tumbled out of his mouth.

"Thomas took ecstasy, Boss! I...I mean, _I_ took ecstasy."

Gibbs waited.

"It was that...the first night when...when Jewel took me back to the back room. She offered..._me_ some and...and I knew what it was. I knew that...that it could be dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Gibbs asked in disbelief. "Dangerous? McGee...the ecstasy is the main reason we're investigating these people! It's not even _good_ ecstasy. The last bunch we intercepted was–"

"Cut with PMA, I know. I know, Boss. The one I had wasn't. I'm pretty sure...since I'm still alive and all." He smiled weakly. Gibbs did not.

"Why even run the risk, McGee? It could have killed you. Five sailors have died from using those pills."

Tim nodded quickly in his rush to agree. "I know! I know it was dumb. I know it was a risk...but I had to!"

"Why?"

"Because...it was a test. If I had said no, she would have dropped me. I think. I'm pretty sure." A part of him was angry at his timid capitulation to Gibbs' anger. _Don't take this! He has no right to question what you do and how you do it! Talk back!_

"McGee, I'm pulling you out."

"No! No, you can't, Boss!"

"Can't I? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't drag you back to NCIS right now!"

_Let him have it! He's acting like you can't handle yourself. You're better than that! Show him!_ Tim tamped down on his internal anger and strove for control.

"Because...we'll have wasted over a month on this operation if you take me out now. Because you won't be able to get someone else in."

"Why not?"

"Because it will look too suspicious to have someone else moving in and doing the same things I've been doing. Besides...there's Jewel."

"Julia?"

"Yeah...Julia. She..." Tim flushed. He hated talking about this, even though Tony loved it. "She's...into me right now, Boss. I'm on the verge. She's going to introduce me to the ones in charge. I'm not just saying that or guessing. I know that I'm right!" _Besides, look at all the free sex you're getting. You've had more action in the last week than in the last five years!_

Gibbs stared at him silently for a long time. Tim fought against the increasing urge to punch him out. Gibbs didn't seem to appreciate all that he'd done. He'd sacrificed so much to do this operation. The least he could do was show some gratitude.

_Exactly. He'd didn't treat Tony like this when his screw up came out. He wasn't nice but he was his usual self. Why do _you_ get treated like dirt?_

"Look, Boss...if you pull me out now, you might be able to take down this place...but it's not the center of operations. It's just a stopover. It's not the place we need to find. Taking this place out will be like..." He cast about for an appropriate metaphor. He didn't know where the one he thought came from, but he said it anyway. "...like cutting one of the limbs off a starfish. Sure, it gets rid of part of it...for a while...but it grows back, and the starfish doesn't die. They'll survive losing that club. We need to get them at the center, not at the periphery."

_You can't let him take you out of this operation! You can't do that! You have to see it through to the end! You know that! You know you have no other choice. You like it. You know you do. Look at how much power you have, how much control! It's all about you. Everyone else has to take a backseat. You've wanted this. It can't end now!_

Tim forced himself to lock eyes with Gibbs, trying not to show any of his inner commentary. He'd never felt this way before. Could he blame this on Thomas?

_Blame? Blame? You getting a backbone is deserving of blame?_

"You finished, McGee?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Are you going to listen to what I have to say?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at him. "No more ecstasy, McGee."

"I haven't. I already told her that I don't indulge in it much because it clouds my thinking. I haven't since that first night. She does, but I don't." Tim swallowed. "She hasn't complained yet." He forced himself to smile.

"One more stunt like that, McGee, and you're out."

"Fine, Boss."

_Wuss. You know that you can't hold out forever. Eventually, she's going to insist. What will you do then? Will you cave to what _they_ want? Risk the investigation just because they think that you can't handle yourself? Besides...you don't want to give up Jewel do you?_

"Can I get back to work, now?"

Tim couldn't swear to it, but he thought that Gibbs looked a little surprised at his statement, but Tim couldn't bear to see the bright sunlight, the sparkling waters of the pond...to smell the clean air. This was a different world, one he couldn't think about existing while he had to be Thomas MacKay, a man who had grown up in this world and chosen to spit on it rather than embrace it.

"Yeah, McGee."

Tim strode past him to the car. He didn't say anything on the ride back. He just got out.

Thomas walked back to the apartment.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two days later..._

"Mac?" Julia whispered in his ear as they lay on the bed.

"What, Jewel?"

"Are you using me?"

Thomas laughed. "Using you?"

"You want something. I can tell. Don't give me that crap about thinking deep thoughts. You want something."

"Of course, I do."

"So you're using me?"

Thomas leaned over, grabbed her and pulled her close. The music still throbbed but there was no one on the dance floor right now. The beds were all occupied.

"Of course, I am. Just like you're using me."

"What am I using _you_ for?"

"Excitement. You want something different...and that's what I am. You want me for sex and nothing more. I want you for the same reason...if there's another reason for my...interest, that shouldn't pose a problem."

She pushed her sweaty hair away from her face and began caressing his bare chest.

"I guess not. You want more?"

"I take whatever you give me."

"Except for something to put us on the same wavelength."

"I told you, Jewel. That's for special occasions. We can't do that all the time. It'll get boring."

She slithered closer. "When will be a special occasion?"

Thomas stroked her lips with his thumb. "We'll both know, Jewel. We'll _both_ know. Now...you said something about more?"

The introspective moment over, Jewel laughed and pulled him off the bed, back onto the dance floor.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Come on, McGee," Tony whispered. "Put back in the earwig. You're well away from there. Put it back in. Get back in contact."

He hadn't said anything, but the delay between the end of his visits to the back of the club to when he touched base with them was getting longer and longer. It was worrying to him because Tim had been different the last few days. It wasn't even fun teasing him about his success with Julia anymore because he was more likely to laugh back and tease Tony about not getting any himself than he was to be embarrassed.

"He has not put it in yet?" Ziva asked as she returned to their base.

"No. He's on his way back, and he's still not calling us."

"Then, you should call him. Or better yet, I will. You stay there in case he does contact you." She pulled out a burn phone and dialed Tim's number. It rang. And rang. And rang.

"_Yeah?"_

The voice was so different that Ziva almost thought she'd dialed the wrong number.

"McGee."

"_I told you not to call me that out here."_ Before she could berate him for failing to make contact, he continued. _"Look, there are some guys following me. I don't need them seeing the earwig or figuring out who I'm talking to. I'll get back to you when I'm good and ready! Stop treating me like an idiot!"_

Ziva was left with dead air and sense of surprise at Tim's attitude.

"He hung up," she said tersely. "He says someone is following him."

Tony nodded and called Gibbs. "Boss, McGee says someone is following him."

"_Dangerous?"_

Ziva shrugged. "I do not know. He did not seemed worried. Merely irritated that I called him."

"_I'm on it. Keep on him."_

"Will do, Boss," Tony said. "McGee was irritated?"

"That is putting it mildly."

"He's a bit different."

"I do not like the change."

"Oh, I don't know. He's showing a lot more nerve than he was before."

"He is not acting like himself, Tony. That is dangerous, and you know it."

Tony looked at the grid, at the receiver.

"Yeah, I know."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I was left a very long review questioning my motivations for writing this story and asking a lot of questions (you can all read it if you'd like and see if you agree, I'm not taking it down), but it was anonymous. I really would like to be able to respond to the criticism, but not in the middle of a story. :) I am always very open to being critiqued, but I'd like the chance to actually respond to said critique. It is unfair to me to say what you think and then run away. Anyway, back to the story for those of you who are enjoying it.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Thomas strode confidently toward his apartment. He had picked up the tail...and he'd caught the scent of the perfume Jewel wore. It was distinctive.

_Like Abby's gunpowder perfume, not the same scent but something I'd recognize anywhere..._

Thomas tamped down on that thought. There was no Abby in his world. Jewel was his and she was the only one he cared about...for now. Until he got tired of Jewel, of course.

Finally, he turned around and smiled.

"Hey, Jewel. Couldn't get enough of me?" he asked.

She smiled but then sobered and jerked her head toward the men accompanying her.

"Friends of yours?" he asked.

"More or less. I think they're some people you might want to talk to."

Thomas sized up the men. They were built for business more than for action, but with three against one (who knew what Julia would do if it were to come to that), they could easily take him. Still, this was what he'd been waiting for. He gave them a long obvious glance.

"Any friends of Jewel's..." He laughed. "If I know what you mean, then we probably shouldn't be discussing it out in the open."

"No."

"All right. My apartment isn't too far."

"We know."

Thomas looked at Julia. "Been following me?" he asked, turning it into a leer.

"Of course."

"Well, let's not stand out here. My apartment isn't welcoming for uninvited guests, but for invited guests, it will suffice."

"Are we invited?" one of the men asked.

"Certainly. I wouldn't have warned you otherwise."

"Warned?"

"I said that uninvited guests weren't welcome." Thomas turned and headed on his way. He noticed someone he knew in a car on the other side of the street, but he didn't make eye contact. Instead, he led his new guests to the building where he lived.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Get ready, DiNozzo. McGee's headed inside...and he's bringing guests."_

"Guests? Who?"

"_Julia and friends."_

Ziva's eyes widened in surprise.

"Wow," Tony said. "I know McGee's been saying they'd contact him, but I didn't think they actually _would_."

"Yes, it is a surprise," Ziva agreed. "Did he leave anything out?"

"Oh...I didn't think of that." Tony brought up the video and did a quick scan of the main room. "Doesn't look like it. Thank goodness the Probie didn't screw up there."

"He has not screwed up at all...yet."

"Yeah, _yet_. Everyone screws up something their first time. I can't imagine that McGee will be any different."

"Technically, this is not his first time."

"He was pretending to be Thom E Gemcity before...for about ten seconds. That doesn't count."

"_Hey, shut up! I'm set up across the street. Patch in to that."_

"On it, Boss."

Tony pushed the buttons in the right order. He knew how to do this stuff, more or less, but he'd come to rely on Tim to do anything technical and that meant he was a little rusty what with Tim doing _his_ regular job. How _had_ that happened? He still wasn't sure.

The door opened and Tim led four people into his apartment.

"Oh! Here they are! I should have brought popcorn! I've never been able to see McGee performing up close!"

"_Ziva, hit him for me, please."_

"Gladly." Ziva flicked the back of Tony's head and then grinned when he glared.

"_Can it, you two. Pay attention."_

They both focused their attention on the scene unfolding. Tim never broke character, not once. Both Tony and Ziva were very impressed.

"_Would you like something to drink? I don't keep much, but..."_

"_We're not here to drink."_

Tim smiled...that almost-disconcerting sneer he'd adopted with the Thomas persona.

"_I suppose not. Have a seat...anywhere you like."_

"_This is kind of a dump,"_ Julia said in surprise.

"_It's sufficient for my needs. Oh...as a friendly gesture, I should point out that you guys are all on camera right now."_

"What is he doing?" Ziva asked.

"I have no idea. Boss?"

"_Just wait. See what he's doing. McGee's smart enough to pull this off."_

"Intellectually, yeah, but this... Boss, I'm a little worried about him."

"_Wait."_

They both watched as the three men stood up and looked around.

"_On camera? Why?"_

Tim laughed. It was a laugh that went perfectly with his smile. It was a laugh that said they would never know exactly what he was thinking.

"_Because I told you I don't like uninvited guests. I've had some problems with that in this neighborhood. Thankfully, that's fallen off in the past couple of weeks. I'm telling _you_ so that you can see that I'm being friendly. I shoot all the video over to my laptop there and keep it for future reference."_

Tony laughed. "Future reference is right."

Ziva chuckled as well. It was nice to see that Tim was doing such a good job with his role, but she couldn't help but feel some concern for how he had reacted on the phone. Perhaps he just wanted to stay in character. Maybe she was just feeling resentful since it had ended up being Tim chosen for this job when she was obviously so much better and more experienced at it.

"_And what do you _do_ with that video?"_

"_I keep it safe. Now, speaking of keeping things safe...that's something _you_ haven't been doing very well in the last few months from what I hear."_

"_Meaning?"_

Julia shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Tim didn't sit next to her, but on the edge of the couch, keeping his hands free, albeit unobtrusively.

"_Meaning that I've heard what happened with your last shipment at Norfolk."_

"_From whom?"_

"Whoa, Probie. Slow down," Tony said in surprise. Tim was tipping his hand way too early.

"_I have my sources. You got an entire shipment intercepted by the people there. I hope you fired your coordinator."_

"_We took care of it."_

"_But you haven't been able to get in again, have you. They're paying too much attention to what had been a minor problem in the past. You've got a blockage."_

"_And you're offering yourself up as a solution?"_

Tim's expression became almost blase, the smile never quite leaving his lips...but it never reached his eyes which didn't show even a speck of the person they knew.

"_Of course I am. You have a product in need of movement. I'm in need of a position."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because going at it alone in this market is not the way to make money. You need to be in on one of the big rackets."_

"_Are you any good?"_

Again, Tim laughed. _"I can't be any worse than what you've had before. You've never heard of me. I've never been caught."_

"_That doesn't mean squat. Anyone can claim to be so good they've never been caught."_

"_What have you got to lose by trying me out? If I do get caught, it will be me that goes down, not you."_

"_Unless you rat us out."_

"_Try me."_

"_You talk too much."_

"_I have lots to say. I can keep my mouth shut when the situation calls for it."_

"_Prove that you can do what you say."_

"_How? You have some more ecstasy needing shipped?"_ Tim asked, his tone derogatory. _"By the way, I never caught your names. It's not polite to hold that back."_

"Oh, come on. That's not gonna work," Tony said.

"_Or should I just call you Larry, Curly and Moe?"_

One of the men stirred restlessly, but the other held him back. His expression was a dangerous one. He was evaluating Tim, deciding if he was worth keeping or if they should just kill him and get it over with.

"Boss..."

"_I'm ready to move if need be."_

Then, the moment passed...strangely quickly.

"_I'm Devon. This is Jaron, and that's Marcus."_

"_Marcus? Descendant of the great philosopher king of Rome?"_ Tim laughed again.

"_Is everything a joke to you? We don't need that in our organization."_

Tim stood up and walked over to his laptop.

"What is he doing now?"

Ziva smiled a little. "I believe that McGee is about to show up."

"_Off. Show off. Shut up."_

She was right.

"_Did I ever tell you what I studied in school, Jewel?" _Tim asked.

"_I don't think so. Philosophy?"_ she suggested with a wry smile.

"_Not at all. Far from it. Computer science. I'm a genius."_

They laughed at him.

"Oh, poor Probie. Can't even use the lie with perfect strangers."

"_Ask me to break into a database. Any database will do. Now, I'm not going to _do_ anything with that, but ask me. FBI? CIA? Local bank? Anything."_

"He wouldn't."

"Looks like he would, Tony."

"_Fine. Get into the shipping records of Norfolk. Show me them for last month."_

"_Done."_ Tim began to type.

"He's not really doing that, is he?"

"_I think he is, DiNozzo."_

It took him about ten minutes. Tim was turning the laptop around and showing it to the others.

"_There. I believe that this confiscated shipment was yours?"_

"_Yes."_

"_You had this planned."_

"_You don't believe I can do this? Ask me to hack something else."_

Jewel scooted across the couch and began to rub his leg.

"_Wow, Mac. Nice. Could you make it disappear?"_

"_Easy."_

"_Why don't you?"_

"_Because I just told you, Jewel. I'm not doing anything. I'm showing, demonstrating my ability."_

He looked at the other three.

"_I've hacked everything from the CIA down to the corner store market. Never been caught. I can move your product."_

He stood up, then, put the laptop back in its place and walked to the door.

"_I've made my pitch, gentlemen. If you'd like to talk about it for a few days, feel free."_ He looked over at Julia. _"I have plenty of distractions right now...unless Jewel gets tired of me."_ His expression as he stared at her was so overtly sexual that even Tony felt a little embarrassed at seeing it.

"_I'm not tired, Mac."_

"_Neither am I."_

The men stood up.

"_We'll let you know."_

"_Soon?"_

"_You'll know...or you'll be dead."_

"_Makes life exciting."_

"_Julia!" _Devon ordered.

Julia stood up and walked over to the door. She paused at Tim's side, wove one leg around him, pressed herself close and then whispered in his ear. Tim laughed roughly and shoved her out the door. Then, he closed it and just stood facing the door, unmoving.

"What is he doing?" Ziva asked.

"Counting the wood grains?" Tony suggested.

Still, he didn't move.

"Come on, Probie! Put in the earwig!" Tony shouted.

But Tim didn't. He stood there in a position that kept them from seeing his face and he stood there for about five minutes before he even moved. When he did move, he was carefully keeping his face from the view of the camera, but he finally pulled the earwig out of his pocket and put it in his ear.

"Finally, Probie! It's about time! You don't need to stay incommunicado for so long. They're gone."

No response.

"Probie, are you all right?"

"_I'm fine, Tony. Why would you think otherwise?"_

"You're acting kind of weird."

"Is everything all right, McGee?"

"_Everything is fine. I'm fine. Why do you guys keep assuming that something is wrong or that something is going to _go_ wrong? I know what I'm doing, and I'm doing a good job of it."_

Tony glanced sideways at Ziva who shrugged.

"_McGee, are you worried about them not wanting to use you?"_

There was that laugh again. Tony was beginning to hate the sound of it.

"_No. They were two steps shy of salivating about my ability to get into the Norfolk system. They'll use me. This delay is just for appearances."_

"_Good. Get some sleep. I've got to head back to DC tonight and check in with Vance. He's been wanting an update. I'll be by to take my shift in the morning."_

"_G'night, Boss."_

"See you, tomorrow, Boss," Tony said...knowing that Gibbs would hear his unspoken request.

"You want to chat, McGee?" Ziva asked.

"_No, I'm tired. I think I'll just get ready for bed. Talk to you later."_ Then, Tim took the earwig out again and set it on the coffee table.

"Wait, McGee!" Tony grumbled. "He can't just leave it in?"

They heard the distant sound of the shower.

"We do not want to short it out, Tony," Ziva said with a smile...which then faded. "Are you thinking what I am thinking?"

"That something is wrong? Yeah."

"We must speak to Gibbs about it."

"Yeah. We will. Tomorrow. It can wait until then."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat on the edge of the tub, trying to stop the tears from falling. He couldn't. He could barely keep himself under control when Tony and Ziva were talking away in his ear, when Gibbs was telling him to get to bed. It was only by letting Thomas do that talking that he managed it. Now, he was crying. He didn't know why. He only knew that it would be a while before he was ready to stop.

Twenty minutes went by before he was ready to leave the bathroom...but he still hadn't showered. The water was cold, but he got under the stream anyway and tried to wash away everything that made him Thomas.

_You love what you can do as Thomas. Everyone else likes Thomas, too. They think he can do anything. You're the wimp. You're the one who messes up. Thomas does everything right._

He turned off the water, walked to the bedroom, turning off the lights as he went. He did pick up the earwig, and set it by his nightstand in case he needed it, but he didn't put it back in at all. He just went to bed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_3:25 a.m._

Tony and Ziva were sleeping. They didn't hear the soft voice.

"_Hello? Anyone there? Tony? Ziva?"_

Pause.

"_I really don't want to be alone right now. Please?"_

Pause.

"_...I'm afraid."_

No sound. No response.

...but it went on the tapes keeping the records needed for the operation.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_Three months ago..._

"Three sailors dead in two weeks. That's crazy," Tony said.

"Five now," Tim reported grimly as he hung up the phone. "That was the hospital. Two more just died. Same thing. Ecstasy laced with PMA."

"I thought we'd stopped that bunch from getting through."

"Apparently, we did not get all of it," Ziva commented.

"And we're going to fix that," Gibbs said. "With me."

"On your six, Boss!" Tony said, jumping up. Ziva and Tim were right behind. They didn't know where they were going, but if they were going to be stopping this horrible trend of sailors OD-ing on ecstasy, then they were all for whatever it was.

To their surprise, Gibbs led them to Vance's office. Vance was already there, sitting at the table. He gestured for them to sit.

"All right, Director. We're here."

"I can see that, Agent Gibbs," Vance said with a slight smile. "This ecstasy case has got to be solved. I finally made some headway with the bigwigs at Norfolk."

"In what way?" Ziva asked.

"In a way that got some of them admitting that they were aware of the occasional rave happening just off base, attended by most of the sailors."

"Wow. How did you get them to admit _that_?" Tony asked, impressed in spite of himself.

"I didn't have to do anything. Three sailors are dead."

"It's actually five now, sir," Tim corrected. "As of this morning."

Gibbs looked at Tim. "How did you find _that_ out?"

Tim shrugged. "I just asked the on-duty nurse if she could let me know when there was any change. I said I would be very grateful to be in the loop."

Vance looked slightly smug, although none of the team could figure out why.

"So...five are dead and how does this warrant us being here?" Ziva asked.

"I have permission to run a long-term deep cover operation with the goal of breaking this drug line."

"It won't stop it all, though," Tim said. "As soon as you get rid of one..."

"Another one springs up," Gibbs said. "We know. This one has to be stopped, though, because people are dying."

"We're getting a budget for it?" Tony asked, hopefully.

"Yes," Vance said. "And we'll be doing it for as long as it takes. The MCRT will be running it."

"Excellent! I haven't been undercover in ages," Tony said.

"Not you, Agent DiNozzo."

Tony deflated instantly and glared at Ziva who tried not to look prim.

"Nor Officer David."

"Wait...if it's not me, and it's not Ziva..."

Ziva and Tony looked at Tim whose eyes widened.

"Me? Really? You're not serious."

"You can't be serious...uh...Director Vance," Tony said. "McGee doesn't have experience with undercover work."

"We need someone who is computer savvy, Agent DiNozzo."

"I can use a computer!"

Tim snorted but quickly tried to turn it into a cough when Tony glared at him.

"I know how to use a computer. I may not be a geek like you..."

"That's right, Agent DiNozzo. You're not a geek. We need a geek."

"To get in with drug dealers, though?" Ziva asked. "I am sorry, McGee, but you are not...not one who looks like a drug dealer."

Vance was stern. "Did I give you all the impression that this was up for debate? It's not. Agent McGee is going to be the one undercover. You will serve as his backup and will be doing a lot of the outside investigation. Any questions?" He looked at Ziva and Tony. "Beyond will I change my mind?"

Gibbs answered for them all. "No, Director. We don't have any questions."

"Good. Get started. I want this to be done right. Don't rush it."

They stood up to leave.

"Agent McGee, if you could stay behind for a moment, please."

"Yes, sir." Tim tried to ignore the cold shoulders he got from his teammates.

Vance waited until the door closed; then, he gestured for Tim to sit down again.

"Agent McGee, I realize that I've put you in a difficult situation."

"I'm...I'm happy to get the chance, sir. ...but Tony's right. I don't have any experience. Are you sure you want to risk me screwing up?"

"_Will_ you screw up?"

Tim swallowed. "I hope not, sir. I mean...I'll be doing my best, and..."

Vance shook his head. "Let me make this clear, Agent McGee. I have every confidence in your ability and in your skills. _However_, I am also going out on a limb a little by choosing you as the undercover operative. I have had to assure the brass at Norfolk that I have picked the best man for the job. I think I have."

Tim straightened. "I won't let you down, sir."

"Good. Get all the advice you can from DiNozzo and David. They do have a lot of experience."

"I will, sir."

"Dismissed."

Tim got up and walked out. He headed down to the bullpen. For whatever reason, Tony and Ziva didn't notice him. Ziva was sitting on Tony's desk and they were speaking in low voices. Tim didn't see Gibbs.

"Hey, guys," Tim said awkwardly.

"Well, going under McCover, are you?" Tony asked. "I guess we can see who is the Director's favorite."

Stung, Tim retorted, "Like you and Ziva were Director Shepard's favorites? Is it any different?"

"At least we're both experienced."

"How am I supposed to get experience if I never have a chance?"

Ziva shook her head. "I think this is a mistake. You should not be doing something so important for your first undercover assignment."

"Technically, it's _not_ my first undercover assignment."

Tony furrowed his brow.

"I was your waiter when you and Ziva went undercover as the assassins, and I went into that club as Thom E. Gemcity."

Tony waved both of those away as if they meant nothing. ...which they might have.

"I mean _real_ undercover work."

_Thwack!_

Tony rubbed his head.

"The decision has been made, DiNozzo. You're wasting time talking about it."

"Don't you think Vance has made a mistake, Boss?"

Tim looked over at Gibbs. He said nothing...but it was a rather eloquent silence and Tim felt as humiliated as he would have had Gibbs agreed verbally. This was not what he had expected from his first undercover assignment. To be honest, he was worried about his own ability to do it, but he could hardly admit to that now, not with Vance putting his own reputation on the line to get Tim this chance...not with everyone scoffing at his ability to do the job right. He would just have to do it without showing them how much their lack of faith in him hurt.

"I won't mess up," Tim said to them all. "I won't."

"Everyone messes up somewhere," Tony said.

"I won't. I'll do this job right. So..." He took a breath. "So are you guys going to help me out or just spend all your time saying I can't do it?"

Ziva's eyes widened slightly but then she smiled. "Of course we will help."

Tim was about to thank her when she continued.

"You will need all the help you can get."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two weeks later..._

"Well?" Tim asked.

"Not bad, Probie," Tony said, looking over the records for Thomas Allen MacKay. "The name is close enough to your own that you shouldn't have too much trouble remembering it."

Ziva nodded. "I am glad you have not made him into a convicted felon. You could not pull that up."

Tim winced inwardly. He hated every time they pointed out something he couldn't do, but he forced a smile. "Off, Ziva. Pull it off."

"Off...up. You still could not do it. This is better."

"So you have the information. Now...who is he?"

"What do you mean?" Tim asked.

"All we have here is stuff on paper. They're not going to be seeing the stuff on paper. They're going to be seeing _you_."

Ziva stood up and walked over to Tim. "They cannot _see_ you. They _must_ see only Thomas Allen MacKay. If you are seen, they will know who you are and the mission will be a bust. You must _be_ Thomas Allen MacKay."

Tim thought back over everything he had been writing down about Thomas over the past few weeks. He hadn't shown them the drafts he'd gone through, treating Thomas like a character in a book, someone he had to invent. It was harder to graft it over himself. He heard Tony sigh and that touched on the anger they hadn't realized he felt. Thomas felt disdain for the world. Thomas was angry at people like Tony who dismissed him. He wanted to be important and if the law-abiding world wouldn't provide that, then he'd take importance anywhere else. Tim drew on that feeling and nurtured it as he considered.

He took a deep breath and let out the first inklings of Thomas.

"You think I can't do this?" he sneered at Tony, taking a perverse pleasure in watching him start at the change in his voice. "At least _I_ know how to turn a computer on." He laughed derisively. "That's why _I_ got this assignment and _you _didn't."

Tony looked insulted and Ziva had drawn back just a bit. Tim breathed in again and let Thomas go.

"Something like that?" he asked tentatively.

They were both surprised. He could see it. They had no idea that he could do something like that. True, he hadn't been sure himself, but he hated seeing every moment that they doubted what he could do.

"Yeah...like that, Probie," Tony said, looking at him with a strange expression.

"Tell me more about yourself...Thomas," Ziva said, settling on the edge of Abby's lab table.

"More?"

"You will have to be Thomas all the time. You should get used to being able to put him on and take him off. Be ready to have him always with you."

Tim nodded and gathered all the feelings that made Thomas who he was.

"I'm smart," he said, but he made into more than a statement. "People never can accept that a smart guy might be aware of what's going on around him. That's why I'm always underestimated. Like you," Tim said, struggling to keep the persona solid with Tony and Ziva giving him those strange looks. "You think that I can't get what I want...when I want it? I _always_ get what I want. ...because I'm smart enough to be patient. I'm smart enough to plan and to always be a few steps ahead of the people I'm working for."

"You will make a mistake somewhere, Thomas. No one is right all the time," Ziva said.

Thomas grinned. It was a slow, feral grin. One that took in every inch of Ziva as he spoke, changing his stance to accommodate the different feeling he had. The suavity that covered his anger.

"No. That's true, but you can't win if you don't take risks. I can take risks. I'll usually win. When I don't...I'll either come out better for it or it's game over. Either way...it's better than what I'd have otherwise."

A strange sensation began in Tim's gut and he exhaled quickly, letting Thomas go.

"Hey! Why did you stop?" Tony asked.

"Sorry. It felt..." Tim censored the word he'd been about to say. "...weird."

"You can't pull out like that unless you're absolutely certain you're alone," Tony said. Then, he grinned. "I think I like Thomas. Sounds like a cool guy."

"Thanks, Tony," Tim said, uncertain whether he should feel insulted or complimented by the fact that Tony liked his alter ego.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two weeks later..._

"_Here we go, Probie,"_ Tony said gleefully in Tim's ear. _"Your first real foray as Thomas. Can you handle it?"_

"Maybe if you would shut up," Tim said. He had hoped that the teasing would ebb as the operation got more and more settled, but it hadn't. Tony and Ziva (mostly Tony) keep poking at him. He was tense right now, going in to get settled in his apartment in this rundown building.

"_Do not listen to Tony,"_ Ziva murmured. _"You will be fine...Thomas."_

"Thanks, Ziva."

"_Get going, McGee!"_

"Yes, Boss."

Tim took a breath and headed into the building.

"Hey, you the manager?" he asked.

"_Not so polite, Probie!"_

The epithet gave him a moment's pause. He wished that Tony would stop that.

"That's me."

"I'm here about that apartment. I called you yesterday."

"Oh. Right. You wanna see the place?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "Yeah...that's kinda why I'm here."

Unfazed, the manager stood up, grabbed a ring of keys and walked by Tim to the stairs.

"_It is too forced, McGee. You must relax and _be_ Thomas!"_

Tim swallowed and followed the manager up the stairs. When they got to the advertised apartment, Tim forced himself to look around it without much expression. It was junky. It was dirty. It was someplace Tim wouldn't live in a million years.

Thomas would live anywhere if it fueled his ultimate goals.

"How much?"

Tim was lucky he could even remember what they ended up agreeing on. He spent so much time trying to ignore Tony and Ziva giving him advice in his ear and so much more time making sure he could maintain his cover that very little attention was given to the manager. In the end, he signed a contract, remembering at the last minute to sign it as Thomas Allen MacKay. Then, he made arrangments to get the keys and pay his first month's rent. When he got back to their home base, he was boiling mad.

"Don't...don't ever do that to me again," Tim said, struggling to be calm.

"Do what?"

"I have you guys in my ear talking nonstop, calling me McGee and Probie and how in the world do you expect me to do my job if you can't keep your mouths shut long enough to _let_ me do my job?" Tim was angry enough that he almost said what he was really thinking...that they _wanted_ him to fail...so that they'd be right.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Three days later..._

"Hey, Abbs," Tim said, down in the lab for the last time.

"Tim! I'm so worried about you! I won't be able to see you for ages!"

"You'll get to play with Jethro more," Tim said smiling.

"Well...there is that." She grinned but then she hugged him tightly. "Just be careful, Tim. I have a feeling that this will be dangerous for you."

"I don't need you second-guessing me too, Abby."

"I'm not! I just want you to be careful and then come back."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive! I've seen all the details of your identity. You'll be great...just don't turn into him. I don't think he sounds very nice."

Tim pulled back. "I think you're the only one who feels that way."

"He's different from you, Tim...but I think it's better that he is. Be safe."

"I will." Tim kissed her on the cheek and left.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

His last night being able to maintain himself as Timothy McGee was spent alone in his apartment. At around midnight, he headed into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He'd lost a _lot_ of weight for this, giving himself a slightly unhealthy look. His hair was cut short and spiky with blonde highlights on the ends. Tim practiced Thomas' sneer and was surprised that it had become so easy. He didn't like how it changed his face.

How could Tony and Ziva think that Thomas was so strong when Tim had intentionally exaggerated things he didn't like about himself to create the character? He'd exaggerated his own _weaknesses_. Thomas felt unappreciated. He was arrogant. He thought he was God's gift to women. Most importantly, he had a deep-rooted anger at everyone and everything in the world. The world was out to get him; so he felt it only right that he return the favor. He hated them all.

...and they liked it. He hadn't gone into the details of why Thomas did what he did. They saw only how he reacted to various things, but how could they like that kind of person?

One last deep breath. Tim would never admit this to anyone else, but he was frightened of doing this. It scared him. Becoming someone he hated...it was a scary prospect...but he couldn't let any of them know. They could never know how he felt because they didn't think he could do it anyway. Too much was riding on it.

"Off we go," he whispered.

Wherever he went now, there would be two people riding along: Thomas Allen MacKay and Timothy McGee. No matter how much or how little he liked the idea, he was in it now, and there was no backing out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_Present..._

"How is it going, Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs thought back over everything that had happened in the past week. Tim's confession, his strange reactions, his sudden success.

"That good, huh?"

"McGee's feeling the pressure, but he's doing a good job."

"Specifically?"

"He's finally met some of the decision makers."

"That's good. Is he in?"

"He thinks he is. He had to hack into Norfolk to show them that."

"I know. He sent me a message. It's a good thing, too, because he made too much noise and the people at Norfolk had a minor meltdown about someone getting into their system."

"When did he send you a message?"

Vance gave Gibbs a look that made him feel uncomfortable. "Last night. Didn't you know?"

"No."

"What's going on, Agent Gibbs? Aren't you in contact with Agent McGee?"

"Constantly."

"Not enough if you're not aware of what he's doing. Did you know he was going to hack into Norfolk?"

"No. I assume that was a last minute decision when they asked him for proof of his ability."

"Do you agree with his methods?"

"Yes. He had me convinced." _Too convinced_.

"In your opinion, are we on track?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now that the official stuff is out of the way, how is he doing? There's a lot of pressure on him, and I'm sure he could use the support of the team."

"He's fine."

"So Tony and Ziva have stopped making him feel as though his position is a mistake on my part?"

"They've been working with him since you made the assignment."

Vance brushed that away. "That's because they're good at their jobs and know when they have orders. Are they giving him the kind of support he'll need to withstand the pressure of this kind of operation?"

"McGee hasn't made any complaints."

"That's a non-answer, Gibbs, and you know it."

"McGee is doing fine. Tony and Ziva are his backup like you ordered."

Vance looked more or less unconvinced by Gibbs' statement.

"Does McGee know that?"

"Of course. They aren't treating him any differently."

Gibbs spoke with as much certainty as he usually did, but he couldn't help wondering about Tim failing to mention his communication with Vance...and Vance's expression wasn't encouraging.

"Keep me informed, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs merely nodded and left.

It was a long drive back.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ziva watched as Tim sat at his computer. The screen wasn't facing the camera; so she couldn't see what he was doing, but all his attention seemed to be on it.

"He still hasn't put in the earwig?" Tony asked irritably.

"No. He has not. He is working as he has been all morning."

"Working on what? If he's waiting for our stooges to contact him again..."

The door opened.

"Hey, Boss. We're waiting for McGee to deign to listen to us again."

"Call him."

"Yes, Boss." Tony grabbed the phone and dialed.

"Tell him to come over here. We need to discuss future strategy."

Ziva watched. "He does not want to answer the phone, but he will."

"You sure about that, Ziva?" Tony asked as they watched Tim stare at his ringing phone.

"_What, Tony?"_ Tim asked.

"You remember that little thing we gave you to wear? You know, that thing that was supposed let us be in contact with you if we needed to talk?"

"_What do you want, Tony?"_

"I want you to be in contact."

"_If I have something to say, I'll say it,"_ Tim said, looking up at the camera. _"Now, do you?"_

"Do I what?"

"_Have something to say?"_

"I usually do, Probie."

There was a long pause and then Ziva felt a measure of relief when Tim smiled.

"_That's for sure. What do you want?"_

"We need to chat. Come on over to my place."

A typical Tim grimace made Ziva feel even better. The strange resentment seemed to be gone.

"_Is this vital to national security or can I put on my shoes first?"_ He sat back and lifted up his stocking feet.

"Oh, by all means, put on your shoes, McGee. We just need to talk strategy."

She couldn't be sure, but Ziva thought that for a moment the smile on Tim's face flickered before he hung up (without saying good-bye), leaned over and began putting on his shoes.

Tony paused only briefly before hanging up himself and looking at Gibbs.

"McGee's acting really weird, Boss. Last night, he barely talked to us."

"Yes, and he has been...strange."

"Are you saying that he's losing track of which side he's on?"

"No!" Tony said instantly. "No...which surprises me a little, but he doesn't seem to feel any sort of identification with these people."

"No, not even with Julia which I find very surprising. I assumed that he would be more like_ you_, Tony."

"More like me?"

"Falling in love with his mark."

"Thanks, Ziva. I really appreciate the reminder."

"I was only–"

_Thwack!_

Ziva rubbed her head and glared.

"Keep on topic. Are you worried about McGee messing up?"

"Not at the moment. He's got his persona down. Actually, I think he could take a few tips from Mr. MacKay."

"He certainly is more assertive as this man. I would not have thought it possible." She grinned. "It makes me wonder how he might have acted inside the club had the case not ended. He was more confident there as well."

"Why can't he be like that as McGeek?"

_Thwack!_

"Sorry, Boss."

"No, Gibbs. I would not have thought it possible, but McGee is doing a good job. I am merely worried that he will not be able to maintain this level for as long as might be necessary."

"Being undercover is hard," Tony agreed, "and McGee's pretty green."

"Just keep an eye on him and if you think he might fumble it, let me know. We've already got quite a bit. We could pull out early."

"It is not enough, though, Gibbs. In order to break the ring, he will have to be all the way inside and that will take time."

"I still say I could have–"

_Thwack!_

"It doesn't matter, DiNozzo. We've got a job to do now. Can you handle that?"

"Yeah, Boss," Tony said, with only a small amount of resentment.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim listened to the conversation, knowing that they didn't realize he could still hear them as they talked about him. Every good thing they said was accompanied with caveats. What would it take for them to accept that he might be good at this? He felt Thomas' anger at being passed over yet again...but he also felt a slight bit of preening on Thomas' part that they seemed to like him so much.

It was probably a good thing that no one had heard him last night. That moment of weakness couldn't be repeated. He would have to stick it out to the bitter end, no matter the consequences. He knew they couldn't see it...and it boggled his mind that they couldn't. They were nibbling at it...but they didn't care enough to probe. That hurt Tim. It was wrong, horribly wrong that these people he counted as friends (or _had_ counted as friends) were so dismissive.

There was a question he now needed to answer: how much of Thomas should he let come out while he was with them? Could he distance himself and let it be Thomas more than Tim who was communicating with them? That seemed to be who they wanted anyway. However, if they _knew_ it was Thomas speaking, they would think there was something wrong...because they didn't see the contradiction. It was going to come down to him being Thomas without being Thomas.

Thomas was the last person he wanted to be, but it seemed as though it would be necessary in order to get this job done, in order to get their respect.

A deep breath.

Thomas gave a toothy grin at a man who was watching him too closely and then continued on his leisurely stroll. It didn't particularly bother him what was being asked of him. If it led to accolades, who cared?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Thomas climbed the stairs and knocked on the door.

"McGee, it's about time."

"You said it wasn't urgent," Thomas said. "I didn't want to attract attention by looking like I was heading off to meet someone."

Tony rolled his eyes and Thomas quashed the anger. Nothing was good enough for Tony, not if he wasn't the one doing it.

"McGee, it is nice to see you in person. I dislike having to watch," Ziva said with a smile.

Thomas parsed that. It could be genuine or another dig.

"Always nice to be seen, I guess," Thomas said, speaking carefully using Tim's intonations. "What is it that I'm doing here, Boss?"

"First, you want to tell me why you sent Vance a message last night and didn't tell us?"

Tim blinked in surprise. Of all the things he didn't think he deserved to be lectured about this hadn't even made the list.

"What?"

"You contacted Vance? When? Why?" Tony asked.

"I sent him a message about hacking Norfolk. Why is this a problem?"

"It's a problem because you failed to mention it to us. They knew you were there, by the way," Gibbs said, thinking he was adding another layer to the accusation.

Thomas laughed. "Good. I was hoping they would. I made enough noise that they should have eventually."

"Why?"

"If I need to send a warning, like I did last night, I'd like to know that _someone_ was listening."

"Why didn't you mention that to us, Probie?"

Tim laughed incredulously. "Why does it matter? I was seeing what I could get away with, how much they knew about computers in general and hacking specifically. They didn't even bother to watch me. I'll be able to do a lot more than I thought. I sent a message to Vance to forestall any problem he might have had with the Norfolk brass."

"You could have said something, McGee," Ziva said.

"Why are you all treating me like I've done something wrong?" Thomas asked. "It's like I broke some cardinal code by not telling you my every movement. You repeatedly tell me not to explain my methods when I work on cases. Why do you care now?"

"Because you're keeping stuff from us."

"Oh, please, Tony," Thomas scoffed. "You could see that I was hacking into Norfolk. I didn't think to tell you that I also sent a message. It's not like I could have mentioned it in the middle of my hacking." He mimed looked at a camera. "'Hey, guys, don't worry! I'm just sending Vance a message!'"

_Thwack!_

Thomas gritted his teeth but only looked at Gibbs and asked, "Was there anything else?"

"We need to talk about how we're going to keep in contact with you once you get hired."

"_If_ he gets hired," Tony muttered.

"I'll get hired. They want my skills. Why can't we just go on as we have been?"

"Because they'll probably be more sensitive about letting you into their business. We can't risk a wire being seen...or the earwig."

"Okay. I can see that, but it's not like you can follow me inside. What will you do instead?"

"We can at least have something to trace your position in case things go south," Gibbs said.

"I have a GPS locator in my phone," Thomas said, strangely loath to let them pinpoint his exact position everywhere he went.

"And if they take your phone away, Probie? What if your cover is blown?"

"Well, you knowing where I am probably won't stop them from putting a bullet through my skull, Tony."

"He's right about that, Boss."

"Something must be done."

"A GPS tracker is just the beginning," Gibbs said. "I've already got Abby on it. She said she'd contact me when she figures something ingenious out."

"Abby will," Thomas said with a smile.

"Even if she has to squeeze every drop out of the Caf-Pow! machine," Tony agreed.

Thomas felt his smile fade a little. Why could they accept Abby's intelligence and not his?

"For now, we're going with the locator in the shoe."

"That didn't work so well for me, Boss."

"How many streams have you seen around here, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.

"None, but I didn't plan on falling into a stream either."

Thomas sighed and interrupted. "I can't really tell you what to expect until they contact me. When they do, I'll let you know."

"Speaking of, wear the earwig more often, Probie."

Thomas paused. "I was wearing it all the way over here, Tony." He waited.

It passed them by. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised.

"Yes, it is hard to have to get your attention by calling, particularly when you avoid answering the phone, McGee."

"I'll keep in better contact. I promise," Thomas said, crossing his heart. "Can I go now or did I do something else wrong?"

"Are you feeling all right, McGee?" Tony asked.

Thomas laughed but reined in on his confidence. They obviously didn't like Tim being so un-Tim-like. If only they knew...

"I'm feeling fine. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, too keyed up, I guess. In fact, I'd better go grab a nap before tonight."

"Yeah, you wouldn't want to disappoint 'Jewel', would you?"

Tim got up and walked to the door. As he turned the knob, he looked back. "No, Tony, I wouldn't. She's hard to please." Then, he walked out and listened to them talk as he headed back to his apartment.

Everything they said was both valid and irritating. It was like no matter what he couldn't be good enough. Be Thomas and he was acting strangely. Be Tim and he was a wuss. They couldn't accept anything that he was.

_Why am I trying to please them? What do their opinions matter?_

Tim thought about suppressing the irritation, but it helped him be Thomas...and doing well with this assignment was probably the only thing that he could do that would give him some sort of satisfaction.

As he walked through the streets, he could hear them. He wondered if they'd ever realize that he could hear them. He didn't know why they'd forgotten to turn off the microphone. It was a good thing he was secure as Thomas now. They'd be royally screwing him up if he wasn't.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Thomas spent most of the evening with Julia in the back...without the earwig. He didn't miss having them talking to him at all.

When he got back to his apartment, he purposely failed to put the earwig in.

He went right to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 **

_Five days later..._

Thomas was walking to the club when Jaron approached him.

"We need to have a discussion," he said.

"My place or yours?" Thomas asked.

"Mine."

"All right." He took a step, purposely stepped on his shoelace and bent down to retie them. While he was down there, he surreptitiously removed the earwig from his ear, cutting off a new round of people questioning his decisions and slipped it into his shoe. Mentally, he made a note to clean it before he wore it again.

"Hurry up."

"Don't want me tripping, do you?" Thomas asked. He grinned as Jaron gave a long-suffering sigh. "Don't worry. We'll get there on time. I have long legs."

They headed off in a southerly direction, away from the club, walking for about a block before a car stopped beside them and Jaron indicated that Thomas should get in. He shrugged and did as requested.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"He keeps taking out the earwig," Tony grumbled.

"He does not want to get caught, Tony," Ziva said reasonably. "If they found that, they would know that he was not what he seemed. It is overly-cautious perhaps, but it makes sense."

"_They've picked him up in a car. Headed south to the downtown area."_

"You want us to come as backup, Boss?"

"_No. Stay there for when he reconnects."_

"_If_ he does. I hope Abby's little watch thingy works."

"It will work," Ziva said. "Do you think Abby would risk McGee?"

Tony grinned. "I guess not. She wouldn't want her little computer geek getting banged up because the machinery failed."

"_Are you two finished?"_

"N-Yes, Boss. All done."

"_Good. Shut up."_

Tony and Ziva watched as the blip marking Tim's position moved slowly southward.

"He'll be fine. Probie's been doing pretty well the last few weeks."

"Yes, but this will be the real test. Charming a good-looking woman is much easier than fooling people whose entire existence depends on being suspicious."

"Yeah...and look how long it took him to get comfortable with that. These guys won't give him a second chance."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The car came to a stop at a restaurant.

"If I had known you were going to feed me, I wouldn't have eaten such a big lunch."

"I find it hard to believe that you over-indulge in food," Marcus muttered.

Thomas smiled, catching a glimpse of himself in a window. The scrawny look wasn't something he'd had since he was a teenager. He liked it. At his age now, it made him look edgy rather than gangly. "Perhaps. There are other arenas where over-indulgence is much more entertaining."

"Inside," Jaron ordered.

"Yes, sir." He walked through the doors into a small restaurant, slightly upscale...and quiet at this time of the day.

"This way," Marcus said, heading through the restaurant to the back.

Thomas caught a glance of Devon and nodded to him, but when he realized that this wasn't his final destination, he grafted a professional expression of general ennui. They went into a small office.

"Head office is pretty cramped," he commented.

"You don't need a lot of space if you work it right."

Thomas allowed just a bit of surprise to cross his face when he saw the woman sitting in the chair. She was dressed in a business suit with clean lines...a conservative haircut...and she was good-looking in an understated way. He openly looked her up and down, locking the details in his memory, pretending to leer slightly. He decided that he liked Jewel better.

"Seen enough?" she asked.

Thomas smiled and took a risk, knowing it could be dangerous. "Nope. I'd have to see you naked to see enough. You have a nice build. You must work out."

He felt Marcus stiffen behind him and the woman's expression hardened for a moment before her lips turned upward in a parody of a smile. It didn't reach her eyes.

"Maybe we can arrange that sometime."

"Anytime," Thomas said. "I'm assuming that's not why you asked me to come here, though."

"You assume correctly. Consider this a job interview. You have passed the first round. This is the final...weeding-out phase."

"Really. And I suppose I can assume that if I'm weeded, my body will turn up somewhere?"

"No. They won't find your body."

Thomas considered that and then nodded. "All right. Ask away."

"You're not worried?"

"If I didn't think I'd succeed, I wouldn't have tried. You need me."

"That remains to be seen."

Thomas laughed. "Oh, maybe for you. Not for me. I've seen what's happened to your last few shipments. All intercepted at various points. Whoever is running the drugs for you isn't doing a good job. You've also had publicity because of your product. Bad for business. You need someone who can clean up your image."

"And you're that someone?"

"Exactly. You won't find anyone better than me, not among the people willing to do your dirty work anyway."

"You're saying no one is smarter than you?"

"I'm saying that no one running drugs is smarter than I am. There might be a few outside of this area who surpass my intelligence, but I'm the big fish in the drug-running pond."

"People eat fish, you know."

"Or they keep them as trophies when they've outlived their usefulness. ...but not until then."

"You're not worried?" she asked again.

"I think I'll outlive you."

Another tense pause. Then, she laughed.

"Sit down, Mr. MacKay. Let's talk."

Thomas nodded with a satisfied smile. Bluster was the easiest way of getting on these people's good side. It didn't seem to matter if it was real or not. They were so easily impressed. ...which was their downfall. That was why Thomas knew he'd outlive them. They never seemed to consider the fact that, if he was smarter than everyone else, that _included_ his employers...all of them. He was definitely smarter than this woman, than any of her hired help. He looked on them with total disdain, but they didn't see it because of their own inflated self-importance.

"That works for me," he said as he sat in the indicated chair.

"You think you can run our drugs without them being discovered by the Navy? Even with the current level of scrutiny?"

"Yes."

"That simple?"

"No, but I don't think you'd understand the technical explanation. ...would you?"

"Probably not. How about a demonstration? You show me how you can hide a shipment of say...weaponry. One of my people has been tracking a shipment of ammunition coming into Norfolk. We'd like to...appropriate it."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Drop the fancy words. It's so cliche. You want to steal it, plain and simple. You want me to make it disappear so they don't even know it's gone. I can do that."

"Right now?"

"Do you have a secure linkup with high speed connection?"

"Yes."

"What's the transmission rate?"

The woman gestured to her computer. "Have at it."

"You trust me not to go looking through your files? I'll bet you couldn't have any sort of protections I couldn't break through."

"If I find something amiss, I'll kill you. Is that blunt enough?"

"Plenty." Thomas sat down and dramatically cracked his knuckles. He looked at the specs on her computers. "This will do, although I'd prefer faster connections."

"We have faster elsewhere. You're not hired yet."

"I'm expected to do this for free?"

"If you do what I've asked you to do, you'll get paid. If not, you'll be dead and won't need the money."

"All right. Here we go." Tim felt a slight twinge. This wasn't on the list of things he was authorized to do while undercover. No one had mentioned that he could steal ammunition from the U.S. Navy and put it in the hands of drug dealers. ...but he couldn't back out now. He had no other choice than to continue. Thomas started to work. As he delved into the inner workings, he had to be careful not to draw attention to himself. No message he could send right now could possibly explain what he was doing. He'd have to do what she wanted. No tricks. Yet.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs waited outside the restaurant, hoping against hope that everything was going all right...but that it wasn't going _too_ well. He was worried that Tim really would fall into the trap all too many undercover operatives had: forgetting who he was and doing the work of a felon, becoming a felon, giving up on his work. He'd seen enough small moments that he felt his worry was justified, but not enough to say that they'd pull out. Tim had been right. They didn't have enough yet to take down the whole group. Tim would have to do his best.

He just wasn't sure it would be good enough.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Done. I've arranged for a portion of the shipment to be stored in this location," Thomas said, pointing out the location on the map. "You can get access to it and arrange for its transfer."

"Why only a portion?"

"That's your problem. You think that in order to get what you want, you have to have all of it. If you want to win, you give up parts now to get more later. Then, they still see the ammo. They don't see that some of it is missing and so they don't look for it."

"That's not what I told you to do."

"I thought you wanted me to succeed. ...or was this a plan to let me fail?"

The woman stared at him for a long moment.

"Innovative. Willing to go out on a limb. Takes risks. Backs up bravado with real skill." She looked up over Thomas' head. "I think he's a keeper."

Thomas followed her gaze and saw the camera. He smiled and waved.

"So...since I got you what you wanted, when will I get paid?"

"Right now." She opened a drawer of the desk and although Thomas tensed for a moment, she simply drew out a stack of bills, counted out a few and handed them over. "Once you get started, we can talk about regular compensation."

"When will that be?"

"We'll be in touch."

"Then I can go?"

"What do you have to do?"

"Well...since _you're _unlikely to get naked for me, I have a girl back at the club who will. I don't want to keep her waiting."

"Maybe some other time."

"Maybe." Thomas got up and was escorted out by Marcus and Devon.

"So...do I get a ride back or am I on my own?"

"We'll take you back. Just keep your mouth shut, okay?"

"Fine by me."

"Yeah, right."

Thomas laughed and got in the car. He didn't say a single word the entire trip. They let him out at the same place he'd been before. He thought about reporting in, but wanted to see Jewel more. So he continued on to the club and spent some quality time in the back room.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim bent over and reluctantly pulled the earwig out of his shoe. It had been so nice to spend the day without their annoying voices in his ear, without having to confront the irritating comments, the questioning of his abilities...all of it. He hated it, but they'd be chomping at the bit. He was surprised they hadn't called him already. Then, he looked over at the counter and, with a small amount of chagrine, noticed that his phone was sitting there.

_Oops_.

Still, he wasn't sticking something that had been riding around in his shoe all day right into his ear; so he took the time to clean it off first. Then, he put it in his ear and braced for the onslaught.

"_Have a nice time, Probie?"_

"_Since when did you get the idea that this was a vacation, McGee? You should have reported back right away."_

"_You are taking too many risks, McGee. What if they had decided that you were expendable?"_

Tim sighed, trying to keep his anger in check.

_Don't keep it in check. They don't deserve to have you hold back. They aren't even letting you explain! Let them have it!_

"Do you want to hear what happened or just blather?" he asked.

A pause.

"_In person, McGee. Tomorrow morning. Early. Come here and don't try to delay or try to stay out of contact. You get here by 0600. Got it?"_

"Yes, Gibbs. I got it," Thomas said, nearly grinding his teeth. Why was it that drug dealers gave him more respect than his teammates? "If you don't mind, I'm going to shower...or did you have more to say first?"

"_Did they like you, Probie?"_

"They loved me, Tony. Thanks for asking." Tim took out the earwig, knowing they'd be upset at the cut off again...and taking a perverse pleasure in knowing he had irritated them. Why couldn't they see just how much good he was doing? Now...how was he going to tell them that he had helped steal from the Navy?

_Don't tell them. They don't need to know. You're supposed to maintain your cover at all costs. That means that you have carte blanche when it comes to making decisions. ...even if they won't believe it._

Tim walked into the bathroom, turned on the water...and then punched a hole in the plaster wall. Trembling with anger, he looked at his fist. The knuckles were bleeding but not broken. Good thing this was a cheap apartment building. The anger got rid of all the tension, the worry he'd felt as he'd been alone in that room with people ready to kill him if he failed.

By the time he got out of the bathroom, he had decided not to mention his theft. They didn't need to know what had happened.

They didn't _deserve_ to know. ...and they wouldn't bother asking because they didn't care unless he messed up.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Tim didn't sleep well that night, but that was becoming the norm. He simply dealt with it, like he dealt with everything else in this operation: by himself. When he woke up in the morning, he didn't bother trying to delay his meeting. There were things they needed to know, things that he needed to do. So he got going. He had no issues with the work itself, only with his treatment.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

As he headed over for the meeting, he looked back over his shoulder once and caught a glimpse of someone following him. He had watched for shadows for weeks now, and it was almost a relief to find one. He pulled out his phone, dialed a number and then headed back to confront his tail.

"Excuse me," Thomas said, "I believe you're invading my space."

The man tried to pretend that he hadn't been following, but Thomas was unconvinced.

"Go back and tell your bosses that if they try to put a tail on me again, they can find someone else to do the work. I don't like people in my business. Unless and until they get me working for them, they have no right to try and figure out my every move and quite frankly, it's annoying."

"I have my orders."

"If you don't _disobey_ those orders right now, I'll knock you out and you won't have the conflict. Would you prefer that instead?"

The man pulled out a phone and dialed a number.

"Yep. I've been made. Yeah, he's standing right here." He grimaced. "She wants to talk to you."

"Nice of her." Thomas took the phone. "Stop having me followed," he said.

"_It's for your own good."_

"No, it's for _your_ paranoia. You're not the only game I'm involved in. Get that straight right now. I'm discreet, and I'm in demand. You want me on your payroll, you give me my space. I catch someone else tailing me and it's over."

"_I don't like threats."_

"I don't make threats. I make promises. I have survived in this game by doing my job well, and by keeping every job separate. I do not intend on letting you spoil that. You're not big enough to be worth it. Got it?"

There was a long pause. Thomas hoped that it would work. It should. They usually caved, but he didn't like that the following was happening so soon. It smacked of making things more difficult down the line, and he didn't want to deal with another layer of complexity. If he were honest, he wasn't sure that he _could_ deal with another layer.

"_We might be a bit bigger than you think."_

"You can't be big enough to warrant this level of scrutiny and I'm not dealing with it. Call off the hounds or find someone else."

"_You remember what I said in the office?"_

"I don't care. I'll take care of this goon and be gone before you can get to me. I'll take my chances. I don't squeal. I can keep things to myself, but you had better back off."

"_One slip."_

"If I had slipped before now, I'd already be dead."

"_Give the phone back."_

Thomas held it out and the man took it. He listened, protested briefly and then hung up.

"Go ahead. She's called off the tail."

"Does that mean I can kill you if I catch you following me?"

"I suppose so. You're not worth the effort." He turned and walked away.

Inside, Tim was shaking, knowing that he had come very close to either dying or to ruining everything. He turned back on his way and only pulled the phone out of his pocket when he had put a few blocks between him and his would-be tail. He also was trying not to look at every single passerby.

"_You okay, McGee?"_

Tim was relieved to hear genuine concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just..." He could hear the tremolo in his voice and quickly modified it back to Thomas' manner of speaking. "I just had to convince someone that they didn't want to go where I was going."

"_Are you sure it worked?"_

"Yes. I'm headed in."

"_Be careful."_

The omnipresent resentment flared up again. "Well, I'm not going to walk around shouting out my destination."

"_McGee!"_

That flare-up had been unexpected. Tim figured it must have been a result of his nerves. He didn't respond, but he headed off on his way. ...and made it to base in record time. He started to drag his heels as he mounted the stairs. There were so many things they could say to insult him. He wasn't sure he wanted to deal with any of them. No, scratch that. He _knew_ he didn't want to deal with any of them, but he wasn't sure which would come up.

He knocked on the door.

"Welcome, oh wise one," Tony said dramatically as he pulled open the door and stepped back, gesturing grandiloquently for him to enter.

Tim rolled his eyes and walked in without comment.

"McGee."

"Yeah, Boss?" Tim asked, tamping down on his irritation.

"You have a problem you come out and say it. I've had it with your retorts. You go too far and it's over. Got it?"

Thomas stared at him, almost unable to believe that was all Gibbs had to say.

"Are we clear?" Gibbs repeated.

Thomas glanced at Ziva who was studiously pretending she couldn't hear the dressing down. Tony was behind him. He didn't even _want_ to imagine what kind of gleeful expression Tony had on _his_ face.

"Clear. Boss."

"Good. Now, tell us what happened both yesterday and just now."

He wanted to play it like the matter was over? Fine. Thomas sat down and noticed an expression of minor relief on Ziva's face. What did she expect? That he'd suddenly freak out and start shooting randomly? They didn't know him. Not at all. They didn't care enough to bother.

"I've been hired," Thomas said. "They're going to contact me within the next couple of days and I think I'll be taken to their headquarters. The woman who interviewed me wasn't the head person but she must be pretty high up on the food chain. She gave the report and approved my continued survival. She's also the one who tried to get me followed."

"How did you get them to back off, McGee?" Ziva asked.

"I told them that I worked other jobs for people and if they tried to breach my boundaries, I wouldn't work for them because it would ruin my other work."

"Wow. Good thinking, Probie," Tony said.

Thomas caught the slight tinge of surprise that he could think like that and felt angry.

"I don't know how long that will last, though," he said, trying to sound normal. "If they're already paranoid enough to try and follow me at the beginning, they may start having tighter observation that I'm unaware of." A sudden thought struck him. "Maybe I should cut off contact with everyone for a while...you know, keep separation so that there's no indication of my duplicity."

"I don't like that idea," Tony said instantly.

"Why not?" Thomas asked. "I can handle myself. I have the GPS locator in my shoe, the transmitter in my watch that I can turn on if I need to, and I won't be able to wear a wire or the earwig when I'm working with them anyway. What if they tried to tap my phone or something like that?"

"You would be on your own, McGee," Ziva said. "We could not help you."

_Like you're helping me a lot right now anyway._ "Don't you think I can handle myself? It's been more than two months that I've been doing this."

"Two months does not make you an expert, McGee," Gibbs said.

"What do you suggest, then, Boss?" Thomas retorted. "Would you prefer that they accidentally stumble across this apartment or maybe that they find the earwig or the wire? Would that be so much better than me being out of contact for a few weeks?" He paused, gathered his thoughts. "Besides, I'm not saying that it has to be permanent...but at the beginning of working for them...they're going to be suspicious. It will be safer for me if I don't have the worry of being pegged as a cop." _If I don't have you idiots rambling away in my ear like I'm five years old._

"I'll consider it. Finish your report," Gibbs said, giving him a disconcerting stare.

Thomas continued explaining everything that happened. A couple of times Tony and Ziva tried to interrupt, but he refused to let them get a word in. Instead, he spoke over them and after a little while they stopped trying, although they were looking at him strangely. Probably annoyed that he had the upper hand for once.

"Can you give a description of the woman, McGee?" Gibbs asked at the end of the report.

"Of course."

"Good. Abby's on standby back at NCIS. Get on with her and start compiling a sketch."

"Abby?" Tim asked.

"Over there. We have the video feed all hooked up," Ziva said, pointing. She smiled at him...the first time in a long time she'd looked at him without disdain.

Tim felt ambivalent about talking with Abby. On the one hand, he missed her...but on the other...what if...

"Go on, Probie. I'll bet she's salivating."

Tony's voice raised his hackles a little, but Tim walked over to the computer and sat down. Almost eagerly, he punched up the feed to Abby's lab.

"Hey, Abby."

"_Timmy!"_

He heard the shriek before he saw Abby's face, but the sound of her voice, how eager she was to see him made him grin...and feel happy.

"_Oh, Tim. I haven't seen you in so long! I've missed you! Man, you look scary. You're so skinny and there are circles under your eyes! You need to take better care of yourself...or I guess you don't because that might blow your cover and I wouldn't want _that_ to happen because then you wouldn't come back and that would majorly suck. But Tim, it's just not the same around here without my geek! I get to see the others sometimes, but I haven't seen you, not for weeks!"_

"Abby!" Gibbs growled from across the room.

Tim grimaced but then wiped that expression away as he saw Abby scrutinizing him.

"_Right. So we're going to be do the sketches. Of course, you know how it all works. So let's just get started." _She leaned around and was obviously getting the program started. She paused and looked at Tim again.

"What, Abbs?" Tim asked.

"_You know...you're eyes look _huge_ right now. It's like half your face is your big green eyes."_

"I thought we were having me describe the woman...not analyzing _my_ looks," Tim said, smiling.

"Yes, you should get on with it, Abby," Ziva said.

Tim again felt angry. This was _his_ conversation, not theirs.

"_Okay, okay. Right then. Let's go over face shape first."_

"She has an oval-shaped face," Tim said instantly. "The third choice on the menu, not the second."

Abby laughed delightedly. _"Tim, did you practice before coming here?"_

"I might have written down a feature or two," he confessed, feeling more like himself than he had in ages.

"_Okay, Mr. Smarty-pants. Hair."_

"Dark brown but with auburn highlights, probably artificial, although I'm not positive on that point. She has it cut into a layered look hitting just above her shoulders."

Abby was working away. Tim waited and then looked at the screen as she moved it around for him to see.

"_Like this, Tim?"_

"A little shorter with the hair and a bit more auburn."

More tinkering.

"That'll work for now."

"_Okay. Eyes."_

"Her eyes are brown, maybe hazel. They're slightly narrowed at the edges and she has long eyelashes. Maybe extensions, but again, I don't know."

"Planning on sleeping with her, too, McGee?" Tony asked.

Tim flushed and then ground his teeth slightly. Abby didn't notice that time because she was working again. By the time she looked back, Tim had got his face under control again.

"_Timothy! It has been a long time since you graced us with your presence."_

Tim smiled. Even if he hadn't recognized the voice, he would have recognized the words. Only one person at NCIS could get away with talking like that.

"Hey, Ducky."

"_Duckman, what brings you up here?"_

"_I had heard that you might be visiting us, however distantly, this morning, Timothy and I did want to have the chance to say hello."_

"Ducky, he's working," Gibbs said.

"_Yes, yes. This won't take long. Actually, Mr. Palmer was also mentioning that he was finding NCIS a trifle dull without all of you around. I think he would appreciate the opportunity to greet you. I shall return. Continue your work."_

Abby looked off the screen fondly. _"Okay, Tim. Let's see how much we can get done before he get back up here."_

Tim laughed. "Okay, you're on."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ziva watched as Tim spoke with Abby...and then Ducky and Jimmy when they arrived. He laughed as they commented on how skinny he looked, how long he'd been away. She realized for the first time that something had changed. Tim speaking with Abby was much different than Tim speaking with the team. He was more relaxed, happier. There was an edge that was missing...as if he was open with Abby where he had hidden something from them.

"Tony," she said in a low voice. "Does McGee seem different to you?"

"Different how?" Tony asked, looking carefully at the map of the areas in and around Norfolk. "Besides that weird haircut."

"No. He is...not the same right now as he has been."

Tony looked over at Tim. His eyes narrowed but then he looked back.

"He doesn't seem that different to me."

"Gibbs?" Ziva asked.

"He's just talking to them, Ziva," Gibbs said and pointed at one section of the map. "This is where the restaurant was. Here's McGee's place and here's the club."

"I don't see that they would have the factory and headquarters themselves in this same area, Boss. They seem to be the type to spread out for safety."

Ziva cast another look at Tim who was now gesturing animatedly and looking much more like the man she had known before.

"Hey, Ziva! Focus."

"Yes, yes." She turned back and put her attention on the map.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Oh, one last thing, Timmy,"_ Abby said as they were finishing up.

"What?"

"_Your mom called me the other day."_

"What?" Tim said in surprise. "She...did you...tell her anything?"

"_Of course not! ...and she didn't ask for any details either. She just wanted to know that you were okay. She said that you had mentioned that you wouldn't be around for a while and that everything was okay."_

"What did you say?"

"_That you were too skinny and that you were kicking hinders, of course."_ Abby grinned. _"I did _not_ however tell her that you were _chasing_ hinders."_

"Abby," Tim said, feeling less chagrine than irritation. That sounded too much like Tony.

"_No, what I'm wondering is how she got my number, even."_

Tim thought about it and then blushed. "Oh...you know what? I'll bet it's from way back when we were...dating. I gave her your number in case there was an emergency and she needed to get a hold of me fast." Tim blushed brighter. "And my mom doesn't throw any phone numbers away. I'll bet she still has the numbers for my friends from kindergarten."

"McGee," Gibbs said.

Tim felt a flash of anger but he looked up politely. "Yes, Boss?"

"Are you finished?"

"_We're all done, el Jefe! I'll just start running it through the database and see if anyone falls out. I'm sending you a copy of it. Tim's got a good memory; so it's more detailed than most."_

"Good," Gibbs said...but to Abby, not to him.

"You finished with me, Boss?"

"Yeah," Gibbs said as he watched the printer rather than make eye contact. "We'll try it your way for now. ...but if I say that's enough, it's enough. Got it?" Now he looked up.

"Yeah, sure."

"You got it, McGee?" Gibbs asked again.

"I _said_ yes, Boss. I'm not hard of hearing and neither are you." He looked at Abby who looked a bit surprised. "Looks like I've got my marching orders, Abby. I'll see you...sometime."

"_Bye, Tim. Be careful."_

"I'm careful," Tim said with a little bit of resentment. He gave a mock salute to them all and left the apartment, glad to be gone, wanting to get back to his own place where he could at least hide in the bathroom if he didn't want anyone staring at him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Well, Ducky?" Gibbs asked.

"_Until those last few moments, I was ready to say that you had imagined it."_

"_Yeah, me, too,"_ Abby said. _"But that was weird. What did you guys do to Tim to make him so mad at you?"_

"We're not doing _anything_, Abbs," Tony said. "That's why it's weird. It's the same as usual."

"He was normal with you, but with us he is always like that."

"What do you think?" Gibbs asked.

"_Well, I can't know for certain via this medium. It would be better if I could speak to him in person but I know that is unlikely. I would put much of it down to stress. This is a difficult job he's doing and..."_

"And is he going to flip?" Tony asked.

"_That I can't say. As of right now? I would guess not. His intentions to help are genuine. He wants to do his job."_

"You don't think there's any danger of him forgetting whose side he's on?"

"_I don't think so, Jethro, but as I said, it's hard to tell. You all are with him most of the time. Why do you need me to tell you what you should know?"_

"Good question," Gibbs said.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim carefully latched the door, making sure they didn't notice him. They were questioning everything about him now. They thought he was going to go native on them. They thought he couldn't handle it...and they didn't think it was because of anything on their side. Typical.

_It's always my fault if something goes wrong, but their credit if something goes right._


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

And so Tim disappeared off their screens for the next two months. He made occasional reports which were as thorough as they were disappointing. He made no attempt to contact them in between reports. Each time he reported, he seemed eager to sign off again and get away from them. He gave no indication that he was having trouble, no sign that he was holding anything about the job back from them. In fact, after the first month, he started reporting on gathered evidence. Information about the men involved, the extensive nature of the operations.

There had been only one moment of humanity in their interactions, one time when Tim had sounded slightly uncertain...almost worried. That came in the first report he'd made after the first week of working for the drug ring.

"_Boss?"_

"_Yeah, McGee?" Gibbs was surprised because of the lack of antagonism in Tim's tone._

"_How far do I go?"_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_I mean that in order to get in I'm going to have to do what they're hiring me to do...move illegal drugs around. If the shipments get intercepted, they'll suspect me and I'll...well, I'll probably be killed, but the operation will be a total bust even if I don't. So...how far do I go?"_

"_For now, McGee, you have to act like their employee. That means doing your best to help them move their product."_

"_When do I stop?"_

"_When we have enough evidence to break them completely."_

_A long pause._

"_Okay."_

_There was dead air. Tim had hung up without any further conversation._

_Gibbs was left feeling both worried and relieved by their talk, brief as it had been._

But the work continued, and the fact that there had been no reason to insist on closer observation meant that their initial worries about Tim's behavior began to fade as two months became three...and then four. They were ready to turn over their gathered evidence and make arrests, but Tim made one more report that made them hold off.

"_I think they're planning something big."_

"_How big?"_

"_A massive shipment coming in for distribution and processing. I'm not sure when. They're keeping pretty quiet about it."_

"_Then, how do _you_ know about it, Probie?"_

"_Because I'm paying attention, Tony," Tim said heatedly. "What do you think? I'm pushing drugs because I _like_ it?"_

_That was the first time Tim had even intimated that he had a problem with what he was doing, the first time since he'd had to romance Jewel._

"_Hey, sorry, McGee."_

"_No, you're not. You never are." Tim brushed it away and focused on Gibbs. "What do you think, Boss? Do you want to take them down now or wait and intercept this shipment? If we do take them down, the drugs will disappear. Someone else will use them."_

_They all thought about it. On the one hand, they wanted this operation to be over. They hadn't seen Tim up close in a while and he wasn't looking good. There was disdain in his expression almost constantly. The strange thing was, however, that he was still doing just what he should be doing. He was passing along the information. Any doubts they had that he might be falsifying it were laid to rest when they checked through everything he gave them._

_...and yet..._

"_Can you get a date for its arrival?"_

"_Not yet," Tim admitted, "but they're going to need me to move it, probably to get it here. This isn't just ecstasy anymore. Remember how she mentioned that their operation was bigger than I thought it was? This might be what she meant. If it is..."_

"_Then, we have to stop them," Ziva said. "We have no other option. Others have died from taking these drugs, not just because of overdose. I do not understand why they are using such dangerous materials to cut their drugs."_

"_It's not all of the shipments," Tim said quietly. "The most dangerous cuts are the ones sent around Norfolk. The higher quality stuff is sold in the clubs that _they_ run. I think they're trying to get rid of the competition locally so that they can expand."_

"_How long have you known this, McGee?" Ziva asked, appalled._

"_Weeks."_

"_Why didn't you say anything, Probie?"_

"_You didn't ask."_

"_We didn't ask?" Gibbs repeated. "You're our inside man, McGee. We shouldn't _have_ to ask you for every piece of important information. That's the kind of thing we need to know."_

"_You know it now." Tim's expression changed...just briefly...but before they could discern what it was, it was gone, and the disdain was back._

"_If we had known it before we could have warned people," Ziva said._

"_And then they'd know that someone on the inside was putting out information...and it would take them about two seconds to figure out it was me. Look, I know it sucks, but unless you want to end it now, it can't change." He looked around at them all. "So...what do you want me to do? I'm not going to go back in there if you're going to start undermining what I'm doing. I put my life on the line every day...but I'd like to know if you really don't care about that."_

"_That's not what we're saying, Probie."_

"_It is. If you think for a minute that they won't suspect me, then you probably shouldn't be my backup."_

"_I'll run it past Vance, McGee," Gibbs said finally. "We'll let you know."_

"_Fine. I've got to go." He stood up and walked out...never looking back, no good-bye._

"_I do not like what this is doing to him, Gibbs," Ziva said. "The sooner we are finished, the better."_

"_Yeah, I think being a drug dealer isn't good for his health. I mean, it's nice that he's finally showing backbone, but there's such a thing as too much of a good thing."_

_Gibbs nodded. "But he's right. If this shipment is genuine, we need to get it."_

And so Tim went back in. Gibbs spoke with Vance and got his agreement to extend the operation until the shipment of drugs came in. They began to set up the takedown. When and where. It took another two weeks before Tim could tell them anything about it for sure.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

He was running through the darkness. He couldn't tell what was chasing him, but he was afraid. It spurred him to run faster. Then, he felt a hand on his arm. It was a touch at first but it sent chills down his spine. He tried to get away, but the touch became a grip, a solid grasp that began to hurt him. He was afraid. Then, the hand turned him around and he got a look at the face of the person pursuing him.

"No..." he whispered and opened his eyes.

"Mac?"

Thomas blinked a few times in the darkness and then looked over.

"Hey...Jewel."

"Wow. What was that?" she asked.

"Just a dream."

"You all right? You fell asleep right after you were done having your way with me," she said, smiling a little. "I was beginning to think you were tired of me after all."

Thomas pushed the feeling of terror away and grafted a smile on his face.

"Not at all. How about you?"

"Nope. Maybe you've made a monogamist out of me."

Thomas laughed. "I doubt that. I don't think _anyone_ could do that to you."

Jewel laughed in response. "No, you're probably right. I'll be free until I die."

"So...tell me. How does someone like you get involved with running drugs?"

Jewel grinned. "How does someone like _you_ get involved?"

"I asked first."

"Well, it's not exciting. I just decided that I wasn't going to let my parents tell me what to do anymore. I moved out...but I didn't want to go to college. I wasn't willing to become a prostitute."

Thomas snorted and Jewel slugged him in reply.

"Hey! My story! Sex is supposed to be fun, not a job. So I didn't want to do that. I have as much or as little as I feel like having. Selling drugs pays the bills...and it gives me a great place to party...and free stuff when I want it."

"Works for me."

Thomas leaned in and kissed Jewel, nuzzling her neck until she giggled and pulled away.

"Okay, okay. You're not going to distract me. What about you?"

"What _about_ me?"

"Come on, Mac. I've watched you at work. You're amazing. I've never seen anyone work so fast or...well...you change when you're at the computer."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Change?"

"Yeah. I've noticed."

"So...you've been watching me?" he asked, sliding closer.

But Jewel wasn't being put off. "I mean it. You are only thinking about the program or whatever and your face changes. I'm probably the only one who's noticed it, though. You're the best computer guy _I've_ ever known...in more ways than one. So...since you're obviously really smart, why are _you_ running drugs?"

Thomas leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. He was glad they were alone tonight.

"Because... I got tired of people trying to pigeonhole me into what I was supposed to be. I knew what I could do...and it was a lot more than they thought I could. They wouldn't listen when I told them I was qualified, that I deserved to be there. They wanted me to be satisfied with the life _they_ said I could handle. It was like I had no say. Well, I know myself better than they do and I know that I can do whatever I want...if I want to. If not...then too bad. I could have made more money probably in more legitimate arenas, but I wouldn't have been free. I would have been catering to someone else. I don't do that. It's my life and if I can't be appreciated for what I can do, then I'll go where I am." The bitterness ran deep...like a poison. "Running drugs? I have a reputation for being good at my job...among the people who matter. I don't want to have big public awards, just appreciation for my skills, and trust that I can use them. I get that here."

Jewel was quiet, and deciding that they'd talked enough, he pulled her over so that she straddled his chest.

"Besides, it means I get my own personal jewel."

Jewel laughed. "What kind am I today?"

"A ruby. Why do you dye your hair so much? It'll all fall out one day."

"Who cares? It's fun."

A sudden, foreign wave of regret washed over him and Thomas pulled Jewel close.

"Let's just lay here tonight, Jewel."

"What?"

"We don't have to do exciting things every night."

"But it's more fun."

"It's also fun to appreciate the quiet moments when they're possible. They are right now. Who knows when they'll come around again?"

"But just sleeping together?"

"Just one night, Jewel."

Jewel sighed but then smiled. "All right. Just this once." She settled in beside him and he pulled the blanket over them both. "You do make a nice body pillow, Mac."

"I aim to please."

That one night...and only that night, they slept. ...and Jewel kept the nightmares away, helped him sleep as he couldn't in his apartment.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Two days later, Tim found out the date of the shipment. He forwarded it to the team and they began to plan out the takedown.

Two more weeks. Two more weeks as Thomas...and then normal life could go on.

...right?


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_Two weeks later..._

Tim lay on his bed in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. The plans had been set. His part was decided. Soon they'd be taking down the drug dealers. He had one more day to live as Thomas Allen MacKay. One more day doing things he hated, working with people he loathed.

_Which people, though? Who do you really hate?_

He hadn't slept a wink that night. Sitting on the table beside his bed was an ecstasy tab. Jewel had pressed it into his hand before he left, telling him that it would be the right time tomorrow. Little did she know that there would be no tomorrow...not for them.

_Do you really want this to end?_

Yes. That much was clear to Tim. He did want this operation to end. He wanted to get away from it, from this horrible apartment, from the people he saw every day, from the constant assault on his psyche.

_Which people? Who do you want to get away from?_

All of them. There was not a single person he wanted to see when he had the choice. People were either corrupt or stupid. Sometimes both. Why deal with any of them?

_There's no reason why you should have to._

It would be too bad to say good-bye to Jewel, but no great loss really. A case of mutual use. Why bother with pretending it was any more than that?

_You don't want to give her up. She's the only one who likes you._

It didn't matter how Jewel might feel. She wouldn't like him when he helped arrest her.

_Why do that?_

"Because it's the right thing to do," Tim whispered. At this moment, he wished he could talk to someone about what was going to happen, but he couldn't. Why trot out more fodder with which they could put him down?

_You can get them all back for it. Pay back every moment of humiliation._

No. That could never happen.

_Why not? You've done it before._

Unbidden, Tim remembered that momentary triumph...over a 16-year-old.

_Exactly. This will be getting back at the people who actually deserve it..._when_ they deserve it. Unless you think they've changed. Do you?_

They hadn't changed. Every conversation was full of snipes and digs...just as it had been ever since he'd begun working at NCIS...especially Tony. If he couldn't be the top, he had to make sure everyone around him was lower. ...or Gibbs who doled out praise to the "worthy" or "deserving" members and gave out treats of responsibility to those who pleased him...as if they were children...or worse...pets. ...or Ziva who saw everyone who was _not_ a Mossad assassin as inferior. All of them had assumed he would screw up, that he wouldn't be able to hack it. They all thought they could do a better job than the poor pitiful computer geek, the one who had never faced any real hardship in his pitiful little life.

_So why not show them who's boss? Why hold back?_

What about his job? What about NCIS?

_You don't need NCIS. Look at everything you gave up for that job...and for what? To be ridiculed and belittled every day of your life._

His phone started to ring and Tim felt the poisonous anger that had infected him course through his veins. He knew who it would be. They were "checking up" on him. Making sure that he hadn't managed to screw something up during the night.

The sooner this was over the better.

_...but what's over?_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Vance walked into MTAC and nodded for the link-up. Instantly three screens popped up.

Gibbs was sitting in front of the center screen. _"We're ready. Lovitz' team got here last night."_

Vance nodded and looked over to the right.

"_NPD is setting up to take down the club. They're almost in place."_

"And your people, Agent Grandon?" Vance asked the woman on the left screen.

"_We're just linking up remotely to head out for interception,"_ Alex Grandon said. There was a flurry of activity behind her. _"We'll be ready within the hour."_

"Gibbs?"

"_We're ready to move as soon as McGee gives the word."_

There was something in Gibbs' voice that gave him pause.

"Are you worried that he won't, Agent Gibbs?"

"_He will," _Gibbs said, just bit too quickly.

Vance signaled to mute the other two groups for a moment.

"Talk to me, Gibbs. Are you worried that McGee is a risk?"

"_No, Director Vance. He's just on edge. It's been a hard assignment."_

"You must be worried. You can't even say that with a straight face," Vance said. "If this is something that could compromise the operation, I need to know."

"_You have nothing to worry about, Director."_

"If I do?"

"_We'll be there to take care of it."_

Vance understood why Gibbs was speaking like that. He didn't want it going on record that he had doubts about Tim's actions. There had been no official mention of it, and although Gibbs had expressed some concern in the past, it had never gone beyond a vague worry that Tim might be in a little over his head. So long as his work continued to be exemplary (which it had), there had been no reason to investigate further...at least from Gibbs' point of view.

All they could do now was wait for Tim to give them the signal. That was the most dangerous part. They couldn't be sure that Tim's signal wouldn't be noticed by his employers.

"Incoming call from Norfolk, sir."

Vance nodded. He gave the signal to reconnect with all groups.

"Send me word when you're ready to move. I'll be on hand."

"_Yes, sir."_

"_Yes, Director Vance."_

Vance looked over. "All right. Let's see what they have to say."

"Yes, sir."

Vance looked at the man on the screen. "Yes, sir. What can I do for you? I'm in the middle of coordinating a major aspect of our operation."

"_That's what I wanted to speak with you about, Director Vance."_

Inwardly, Vance sighed. He hated it when the military types decided they knew more than he did about NCIS operations. They always seemed to forget that he wasn't Director because of his political clout...although that hadn't hurt. It was irritating when people tried to muscle in.

"Yes?"

"_Are you sure you want to do this without Navy involvement?"_

"You don't have the authority to operate under the guidelines of this operation. NPD does, as does NCIS. We appreciate the offer, but it won't be needed." He saw the man getting ready to speak again. "Thank you for your offer, sir, but I have a lot to do. Good-bye." He signaled the end of the conversation. Having the power to end irritating conversations like that was one of the few perks of being director.

"If he calls back again, sir?"

"Tell him I'm extremely busy."

"Yes, sir."

Now, it was down to waiting on Tim.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

As was normal Thomas walked down the street to the intersection and was picked up by his employer. They then drove to headquarters. Thomas was passed in without even being searched. After months of exemplary work, they didn't worry about him. Thomas noticed it with utter disdain.

_It's the computer geek thing all over again. They think that they have someone to control, not someone who might be better than they are._

It made him angry. Everyone but Jewel seemed to have completely dismissed him as a potential threat. He supposed it would take the events of today to finally get across to them the deadly error of taking Thomas Allen MacKay for granted. He smiled and nodded to his employers as he was conducted through the building to the bank of computers at the back. Jewel was there.

Thomas was ready for things to get started, but he wanted to make sure that everything was set before sending the signal. He would finally show them all that he could do whatever work was required, that he was willing to go to whatever lengths necessary to succeed. Maybe then they'd stop underestimating him.

"How are we doing, MacKay?"

Thomas looked over his shoulder. All his employers had names but he found that he didn't care. They were unimportant, foolish men and women whose talents were confined to the lowlifes they controlled. They had no idea how to deal with someone like him.

"Everything is on schedule. I'm just getting ready to make the shipment disappear."

"Good. You keeping an eye on surveillance?"

"Of course."

Surveillance which was as shortsighted as they were. Thomas brought up the coding that would allow him to control the course of their shipment. They'd never had anyone as good as he was. ...and never would again. He looked at his watch...and pressed a button which would send a short burst, telling everyone it was time to move.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"We've got it, Director."

"Good." Vance looked at the screens. "You all get that?"

"_Yes, sir. We're ready to move on your mark."_

Gibbs looked back over his shoulder and then nodded. _"We're ready."_

"_They're starting to move the crates,"_ Alex reported. _"Just say the word."_

Vance looked at the screens. He could see nothing but focused activity. Everything seemed in order.

"Go," he said. "Good luck."

Instantly, he saw the results of his order. Alex's team was first to engage...but only minutes after, NPD stormed the club. All was chaos in two of the three screens. He could tell only that things seemed to be going according to plan.

"_Vance?"_ Gibbs asked.

Vance looked to either side. It was important that they had the outer groups in hand, that no one was able to report to their bosses.

"You're clear. Go."

Gibbs said nothing in reply. He turned and headed off.

Vance knew he could only wait and watch now. There was nothing more unless they needed more information to coordinate the various groups. It was times like this that he wished he was still only an agent.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

At the first sign of something going wrong, Thomas smiled to himself. They would be understanding the error of their ways now. The higher-ups were in their offices but he was sure they'd be freaking out momentarily...when they saw that the shipment wasn't disappearing...at least not in the way they had expected it to. It was disappearing into NCIS custody. Then, he stiffened slightly at the feeling of cold steel against his neck.

"What have you done, Mac?"

"Jewel."

"I mean it, Mac. I told you that I was watching you."

"On assignment, then?"

"Of course. You think they kept me here for my pretty face? Who else are you working for?"

Thomas slowly turned the chair around so that he was facing Jewel directly. He grinned at her.

"I told you from the beginning, Jewel. We're using each other."

The gun didn't waver.

"You're trying to help one of your other clients."

Thomas laughed. So right and yet so very wrong.

"You might say that."

Jewel walked over to the door and locked it. They were alone for now.

"What might _you_ say?"

"I might say that you have one chance to survive what's coming. One chance. If you put down the gun and surrender, you'll live. If you don't, you'll die."

"You sure about that?"

"You'll be outnumbered and outgunned, Jewel. Neither you nor I can stop what's coming...but you can survive it...if you listen to me and surrender."

Jewel laughed haughtily. "I don't surrender to anyone, Mac. You know that."

Thomas leered. "You've surrendered to _me_ often enough."

They were both momentarily distracted by the sound of gunfire in the other room.

"I told you that they're coming. Your choice."

"I don't care about dying," Jewel said. "But I can take some of them down with me."

"I can't let you do that."

"How will you stop me? You're just another tech. I can shoot them and then you before it's over."

Thomas was angry...so even Jewel tried to put him in a specific group, not letting him be who he was. She hadn't even bothered to check to see if he was armed. She was aiming at the door, barely paying attention to him now. Thomas felt along his back until his hand felt the butt of the gun he'd strapped on that morning...the first time he'd gone out armed. He didn't even know if Gibbs was aware of it...not that he'd care.

"You have one chance, Jewel. Put down your gun."

"Not a chance."

The door began to open. Thomas watched as Jewel began to aim at those who would be coming in. He didn't waste any more time with warnings. He pulled out the gun and fired. Twice.

He didn't miss.

Jewel looked at him in shock as she began to sink to the ground.

"Sorry, Jewel," he said calmly. "You should have realized what I could do."

She fell to the floor and didn't move. Thomas slowly lowered the gun to his side as his team poured into the room, guns out, ready for the action he had already ended. He stared at Jewel's body. He was fairly certain that she was dead. He hadn't held back. He watched in silence as Lovitz and Gibbs headed to her.

"What happened, McGee?" Ziva asked, staring first at Jewel and then at him.

"She was going to kill you when you came through the door. I stopped her."

Tony walked over beside him. Thomas stiffened.

"I suppose that's one way of breaking up."

Thomas' anger reached new heights, his brain supplying all sorts of vulgar epithets to describe the odious man beside him. There was only one way of dealing with someone like that, someone who was so stupid that he ought to be put down just to do the world a favor and keep his genes from being handed down to another generation. Tony didn't notice Thomas' hand clenching into a fist. He didn't pay attention to that because he didn't pay attention to anything outside of his own personal world view.

_Get ready to expand your horizons,_ Thomas thought to himself...and swung his fist as hard as he could. He connected solidly with Tony's nose.

Tony reacted instantly, crying out in pain and surprise, dropping his gun and bringing both hands up to his face, trying to catch the blood now gushing most satisfactorily from his nose, dripping down to his chin.

Thomas turned to face him directly.

"Don't...ever...speak to me again. You have nothing of value to say; so keep your mouth shut! I just saved your sorry behind. Don't make me regret that any more than I already do!"

A hand grabbed his arm.

"McGee!"

He turned to confront his new attacker. Part of him wanted to hit Ziva, too, but he'd been too well-trained not to hit women (although obviously not to avoid shooting them). Instead, he grabbed her wrist and wrenched her hand away.

"Don't touch me," he growled.

"Let go," Ziva said, her voice dangerous.

Still angry, Thomas did so, smiling at her. "Ditto."

Then, he pointed at Gibbs who had risen to his feet.

"That goes for you, too. All of you. Don't touch me. Leave me alone."

"Tony, you okay?" Gibbs asked, not responding to Thomas' injunction.

"Yeah, I'm great, Boss. McGee just rebroke my nose! I'm fabulous!"

Thomas glanced over at him and laughed. "I could have shot you. Be grateful that all I did was break your nose."

"McGee, I need your gun."

"Why?"

"Because you just killed a civilian."

"Who was trying to kill you. Would you rather I had let her do that? If so, you should have told me you had a death wish."

"McGee! Give me your gun! You killed someone. You know what has to happen."

Thomas thought of lengthening out the awkward standoff. He knew they were all afraid of him...and he found that he liked that. They didn't know what to expect. For once, he had managed to surprise them, shake them out of their comfortable world where little Tim McGee was the weak one. ...but he made a show of unloading his gun and then handing it to Gibbs as he approached.

"Here you go. Have fun," he said sarcastically.

"Agent Miller," Gibbs said, staring at Thomas with an almost-disconcerting intensity, "please escort Agent McGee outside until we're ready to leave."

"Yes, Agent Gibbs. McGee?"

Thomas smiled once more and followed Lara to the door. "Did you get the rest of them?"

"Yeah."

"The drugs?"

"Everything went down without a problem, McGee," Ziva said carefully.

"Good."

He walked out without another word.

The operation was over.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

It took most of the day and far into the night to finish the initial investigation. Even when NCIS left the scene, the NPD was there keeping order, continuing to gather information. Alex's team would be on hand since they were based at Norfolk. Four had been killed in the takedown. Two in the process of intercepting the shipment, one of the head honchos and then Jewel. Four agents and two officers had been injured. All in all, it had been extremely successful.

So...why did it feel like a colossal failure?

Ziva could answer that question just by looking out toward the street where Tim sat calmly, staring at the crowds which had gathered in the hours since the initial takedown. He seemed utterly unconcerned. Tony was paying a visit to the local ER to make sure that his nose wasn't really broken. Gibbs was working with Lovitz to make sure everything was in order before they left.

...and Tim just sat where he was. Not moving, not shifting anxiously. No self-conscious glances toward the building, anticipating Gibbs' approach. There was no indication that he thought he was in trouble...or if he did think he was in trouble, he wasn't particularly worried about that fact. He didn't seem to care.

What had happened? Tony had been callous, speaking as he had, but it was no worse than a hundred other things he'd said (or more). What had caused Tim to fly off the handle like that? Was it killing Jewel? Perhaps. More than likely, it was a result of his long time undercover. She knew from personal experience that it was sometimes hard to let go of the created personality. Tony knew that as well.

...but she had never before been afraid of Tim. In that moment when he had grabbed her wrist, she _had _been afraid...because it hadn't been Tim she was seeing...but at the same time it was. Although the comparison had been immediately dismissed, Ziva couldn't forget that, at that moment, Tim had reminded her of Ari...just before she had been forced to kill him. It had been like listening to a stranger speaking with the voice of her brother.

"Ziva, are you finished?"

"Yes, Gibbs. Have you spoken to Tony?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Yes. His nose isn't broken, just bloody. He's on his way back now."

"Gibbs..."

"Let's wait."

"For what? For McGee to hit one of us next?"

"No, for him to have some time to come out of the operation. He deserves a day or two to see if that's all it is."

"And if it is not?"

"Then, we'll deal with that when it happens."

Ziva shook her head. "I do not think that will be enough. I have never seen McGee as he was when he hit Tony."

"It wasn't McGee. It was MacKay."

"That is more worrisome. Did you not see his face when you asked him for his gun?"

"I saw, and I heard. Ending an op is never easy. We'll make sure that he's coming out of it okay. If he's not, we'll deal with it."

Ziva watched Gibbs walk away and felt no better. How had they missed this kind of disgust? Certainly Tim had shown less willingness to deal with their teasing, but outright hatred? No. Where had it come from? Was it all from his persona? If not...why did he hate them?

She watched as Lara walked over to him, both wishing she had the courage to do the same and relieved that she didn't have to.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim couldn't remember the last time he'd been so angry. ...and he liked it. He had no interest in letting it go. He sat, watching all the activity going on around him. Time had passed without his noticing it. He didn't seem required to do anything and so he sat, replaying that incredibly satisfying moment when he had finally given Tony a little bit of what he deserved. His fist hurt a little, but it was so worth it just for the expression on Tony's face...not just the pain. It was mostly the total shock.

He laughed to himself.

"Hey, Tim."

Tim jumped.

"Sorry! Didn't mean to startle you."

He looked over his shoulder and saw Tony getting out of a car. He smiled and then looked at Lara.

"That's all right."

"Are _you_ all right?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, you did punch out Tony."

Tim laughed again. "Don't you think he deserved it?"

"It wasn't the best thing he could have said, but..."

Tim shook his head firmly. "Lara, if you're here to defend DiNozzo, don't bother. You can go back to work."

"What about you?"

"I was told to come out here. I'm just waiting for new orders."

Lara touched his shoulder. Tim looked at her hand and then up at her.

"What?"

"It must have been hard."

Tim stared at her in confusion. "What must have been hard?"

"Shooting that woman."

He shook his head. "No. It wasn't. I aimed. I fired. She died. She wasn't even presenting a moving target. She assumed that I was too much of a geek to pose a threat. That made it even easier." He shrugged her hand away. "How much longer will it take?"

"I'm not sure. It's a lot of junk we have to go through."

"Okay. Well, looks like Tony's got over himself a bit. You'll probably have another set of hands."

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"If you want to talk..."

Tim deliberately misunderstood her. "Isn't that what we're doing right now? Hey, do you think I broke Tony's nose? I'd ask him, but then I'd have to hear his voice talking to me."

Lara got that same strange expression on her face that the others had, but she didn't respond to his questions.

"I'd better get back to work, Tim."

"Okay. See you later." Tim watched her walk away and started picturing Ziva's face when he'd grabbed her wrist. He hadn't missed that flash of fear. Fear! The mighty Ziva David had been afraid of lowly Timothy McGee. Where that had irritated him before, this time it gave him a sense of accomplishment. The only one who hadn't satisfied him was Gibbs...although he'd come close. That moment of losing patience at Tim's sarcastic needling. ...but it hadn't been nearly so satisfying as watching Tony's head snap back. However, he didn't think he could get away with that same thing twice. He'd have to find some other way to get a rise out of Gibbs. That could wait, though. He was willing to wait...just like he had during the undercover op. Wait for the right moment.

"Hey, McGee! We're leaving!" Tony shouted, sounding resentful...and stuffed up.

Tim stood and walked over. "I told you not to talk to me, Tony," he said, but without any anger. It was just a statement of fact, no threat attached. Not yet anyway. He didn't give Tony a chance to say anything in reply. "Boss, can we stop at my apartment? There are a couple of things I'd like to pick up."

Gibbs stared at him.

"Well?" Tim asked.

"Sure, McGee," he said and then got in.

"I get front," Tony said...to Ziva. "I'm not sitting next to McLoony."

Tim laughed again and opened the passenger door behind Gibbs. The ride over to his...Thomas' apartment was silent. When they arrived, Tim got out without speaking and walked up the stairs to the horrible one-bedroom he'd lived in for the last seven months. He didn't need to get much, just a couple of items that he felt he needed.

He stopped in the bedroom. That ecstasy tablet from Jewel was still sitting on the nightstand. He walked over and sat down on the bed, picked up the pill and stared at it.

_Stupid, Jewel,_ he thought.

The door to his apartment opened, startling him. He put the ecstasy in his pocket and pulled out his knife, cursing the fact that he had given Gibbs his gun.

The footsteps approached the bedroom. Tim poised to throw the knife.

"McGee."

Gibbs. Instantly, Tim lowered his arm, putting the knife back in its hiding place. He didn't want Gibbs taking that from him, too.

"What, Boss? You think I can't handle grabbing some toiletries?"

Gibbs came into the room.

"You were out of line."

"When?"

"You punched your teammate in the face."

Tim rolled his eyes. "He was out of line first. I was just helping him see that."

"That's not your job."

"No...that's _your_ job, isn't it." Tim walked by Gibbs toward the bathroom. "Maybe you should try doing it."

"Hey, McGee."

Gibbs' voice had changed, becoming almost..._understanding_. That was laughable.

"What?"

"It's hard giving up an identity sometimes."

"I'm not having a hard time giving it up, Boss. Don't try to pass this off as that," Tim said. "I'm tired and looking forward to finally sleeping in a good bed."

"We'll drop you at your apartment then. Come in to NCIS tomorrow to work on your report."

"Fine. Whatever." Tim went into the bathroom, grabbed a couple of essentials and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked terrible. He looked...like someone who belonged in an apartment like this. He was still very skinny. Dark circles ringed his eyes, making it almost look as though he'd been hit himself. His hair. He hated his hair. He'd be glad to get rid of that look. He much preferred his own style...as staid as it was. Slowly, he reached out and touched his reflection.

"McGee, you ready?"

Gibbs' voice startled him out of his thoughts and he felt the anger again.

"Yes, I'm ready."

He walked out of the bathroom and followed Gibbs out of the apartment, glad to leave it behind.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was dead silent in the car for the first hour of the drive back to DC. Tim had closed his eyes almost instantly, but no one spoke until they were sure he was asleep.

Ziva leaned forward, keeping her voice very low.

"What are we going to do about him?"

"Can I punch him since he punched me?" Tony asked, but also keeping his voice soft. "He ruined my shirt."

"I am _worried_ about him, Tony. Are you not?"

"If he punches me again, I'm going to hit him back."

"That is not what I asked."

"Look," Tony said turning around in his seat, "McGee spent half a year being someone else. It takes time to decompress. That's all it is."

"What about Jewel?"

"Julia," Tony corrected. "Only McGee called her Jewel."

"Fine. He killed her. Agent Miller told me that he said it did not bother him."

"He was lying."

"She did not think he was. He seemed sincere."

"Oh, come on. It's McGee!" Tony scoffed. "He would feel guilty about squashing a spider...if he could bring himself to do it."

"Tony, this is serious."

"He probably wants to be as macho as the rest of us. He'll cry in Abby's arms when she hugs him."

"He has to be debriefed and interviewed about the operation," Gibbs said, finally joining the conversation. "Any problems he has will come up there. If something is an issue, I'll find out. Don't expect him to be normal right after the end of an operation."

Ziva sat back, obviously not happy...but none of them saw Tim crack open his eyes just for a moment and then reclose them.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"McGee, you are home."

A touch on his arm brought him instantly to full awareness. Tim sat up and looked around, momentarily bewildered.

"Home?" he asked, blearily.

"Silver Spring, McGee," Gibbs said from the front.

Tim looked out at his apartment building. It had been half a year since he'd been there...and he felt strangely reluctant to return to it. However, he said nothing about that to the others in the car. After all, they were "worried" about him.

"McGee, will you be all right?" Ziva asked.

"I'm already fine, Ziva," Tim said and opened the door. He didn't hesitate but walked inside with long strides, putting a lot of distance between himself and his colleagues.

His strides took him to his door before he was ready to be there. He stopped and stared at it, not wanting to go inside, but again, he didn't stop. He pulled out his keys...and paused. Where had he gotten them? Had someone given them to him? He actually couldn't remember. Strange. He shrugged and unlocked the door.

His apartment was just how he remembered...maybe cleaner than it had been. Sarah had lived there for a semester, but she would be...somewhere else, he guessed. A note was on the counter. He walked over, hoping that it wasn't from anyone at NCIS.

_Tim,_

_Thanks for letting me stay at your apartment...even if it freaks me out that I have no idea where you are or what you're doing. I don't even know when you'll be back. I'm not going to even think about the alternative. Anyway, I cleaned the whole place before I left. I'm in London for a special summer course at Cambridge. I'm really excited about it, and you had better call me or something when you get back. When. When you get back from wherever you are._

_I never thought I'd say this, particularly not in print where you have evidence, but I miss you. Come back soon, please. I'll even stop teasing you about your novel._

_Well, that's pretty much it. Welcome back, and CALL ME!_

_Sarah_

Tim smiled. Sarah was so awkward when actually being nice to him. He was glad she wasn't there, though. She'd notice the difference right away and be even more freaked out. She'd seen him this angry before and she would know that something was wrong, even if he tried to hide it. Sarah noticed...but then she actually cared.

He left the note on the counter and told himself that he'd call her...and his parents tomorrow. It was too late to talk and he was tired. Instead, he headed back to his room, taking in all the familiar parts of his life that seemed so alien at the moment.

Tim walked around and around his apartment. He went to the bedroom, then into the bathroom where he set down his stuff. Then, back into the bedroom...and then into the main room, then to the kitchen. He wasn't walking quickly. He just couldn't seem to settle anywhere. More than two hours later, he was still walking from room to room, opening cupboards and closing them, sitting at his computer and standing up again, clicking randomly on his typewriter, opening the drawers. He felt like he'd been unnaturally grafted into this place, even though it was his place, his possessions...his home. It still felt wrong.

Finally, he forced himself into the bedroom once more and lay down on the bed. He closed his eyes, wanting to sleep. He was really tired.

...but he didn't sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

It was nearly sunrise when Tim fell asleep...and he didn't get to sleep for long. At around nine, his phone rang. He sat up quickly, his heart thudding painfully against his ribcage. He couldn't remember where he was for a moment and looked around, lost in his apartment, not knowing what to expect. Gradually, the ringing phone pinged on his consciousness and he realized what it was.

He reached out and grabbed it, his hand shaking violently as he tried to breathe normally.

"H-Hello?"

"_Hey, Tim. That you?"_

Tim thought about the question...and who it might be on the phone. "Hello?" he repeated.

"_Tim...you all right?"_

_That's me. I'm Tim. He's talking to me._

"_Tim?"_

"Sorry...who is this?"

"_Matt. You know? Your nerdy friend?"_

Tim gave a shaky laugh. "Hey...Matt. H-How's it going?"

"_I'm great...but you sound terrible. What's wrong?"_

A couple of deep breaths. "I'm okay...just a bit...a bit edgy. What's up?"

"_Hey, if you're not feeling great right now, I can call back."_

Now that he'd remembered himself, Tim was eager to continue the conversation.

"No, it's okay. What is it?"

"_Well, actually, I have a favor to ask you...although I'm hoping you'll enjoy it."_

"A favor? You're a multi-millionaire, Matt. What in the world do you need from me? I know it's not my computer skills."

Matt laughed. _"No. That's not it at all. It's just that...well, Judith and I have decided to behave like stereotypical rich people and go traveling for the summer."_

"I won't be your butler, Matt," Tim said, smiling.

"_No...of course not...although..."_

"Don't even think about it. I haven't sunk that low." _I've been lower, but not that low._

"_Okay, okay. Really what we wanted was to ask if you'd house sit for us."_

"House sit?"

"_Yeah. It's kind of a last minute trip and...and we trust you. You'd have the run of the house. You wouldn't have to do anything. We have people to maintain the stables and clean the house and stuff like that. We have a great security system, but you just can't beat the presence of an actual human being."_

Tim thought about it...and looked around his apartment. He already wanted to leave it. He'd been to Matt's house a few times since they'd reconnected a couple of years ago and it was one, maybe two steps short of being a palatial mansion...with acres and acres of property around it

"_Well?"_

"You know what, Matt? That...sounds great. I just got off a long assignment and...I could use the vacation."

"_Really? What?"_

"Well...I was undercover, but I can't talk about it right now. Not until charges are filed and stuff. You know."

"_Right. Of course. Your life is a lot more exciting than mine, and I guess I wanted to live vicariously."_

"Yeah. My life is so much better. You're a millionaire. You're married to a lovely lady. You have that huge house. You're doing what our fellow classmates would _kill_ to be able to do."

"_But not you?"_

"Who knows?" Tim said. "When are you two jet-setters leaving?"

"_Next week. You can come over on Sunday night and we'll give the lowdown on everything."_

"Sounds good. ...oh, I should warn you, though, that you might be a little surprised by how I look."

"_How you look? Why?"_

"It was...a tough assignment, but I actually just got back last night. I look...bad."

"_How bad?"_

"Judith is going to freak out...even after a week."

"_Well...in that case, come over Sunday afternoon instead. Let Judith feed you and fret over you and then we'll go and she'll feel as though she's done her civic duty."_

"Okay, Matt. I'll see you on Sunday."

"_Great, and thanks a lot, Tim. I appreciate it."_

"You're asking me to stay in your house for free for months. _I_ appreciate it."

Matt chuckled. _"Believe me. I'm grateful."_

"Bye, Matt. See you."

"_Ciao, Tim. Do I sound suave?"_

"Not at all. Bye."

Tim hung up and sighed. Matt was a friend he almost hadn't made. They had drifted apart after graduating as so often happens, occasionally exchanging Christmas cards, emails, but nothing deep. Tim had kept up with what Matt had been doing. Finding one of the few dot com companies to survive the crash, Matt had made money while so many others around him had hemorrhaged funds. His smart investments, combined with his software company had made him wealthy and secure. He and Judith had moved to Maryland a few years before and they had run into each other at a special gala...at which Thom E. Gemcity had been a guest.

Now, that friendship would save him from staying here. Thank goodness.

His phone rang again.

"Hello?"

"_McGee, I believe the work day begins at 0700. You're not the only one who had a late night."_

Tim felt the equilibrium he'd found while talking to Matt vanish into nothing and anger took its place. He hung up on Tony and didn't bother to change his clothes before leaving.

His phone rang as he drove to NCIS, but he simply connected and then hung up every time it came up as someone from his team. By the time he reached NCIS, he was fully angry again...at all of them. He didn't hesitate to hang up on any of them. He didn't care what Gibbs said or did. He still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

As he pulled into a parking space, he smiled. ...but it was Thomas' smile, not Tim's.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You could have changed first, McGee," Ziva said. "I am sure you did not have to be that much in a hurry."

"Yeah, and you could have talked to me...or am I still not allowed to speak to you," Tony grumbled.

Tim ignored Tony completely. "I was given to understand that I was late, Ziva," he said. "After all, I wouldn't want to get in trouble on my first day back, now would I?" He walked by her to his desk.

"You're late, McGee," Gibbs said as he walked in. "We have to go to Norfolk."

"Already? Come on, Boss! Why can't Alex's team take care of that?"

"Because this is our case, DiNozzo. Stop whining. Grab your gear."

Tim started to stand.

"Not you, McGee. You're out of the field."

"What?" Tim asked in annoyance.

"You have to have your debriefing. We have to determine that you're not at fault in the killing of Julia Westin."

"Who?"

"Your girlfriend, Probie."

"Jewel," Ziva said.

"At fault?" Tim stood up. "At fault?"

"I'm not starting this, McGee. You know procedure. You stay here and work on your report. I'm sure it will take you plenty of time."

Gibbs walked to the elevator, Ziva and Tony on his six. Tim stood in the bullpen, at a loss for words. Then, he noticed that Lara was watching him again. He glared and sat down at his computer. It took a few minutes before he could concentrate on the screen long enough to start typing.

...but when he did, there was no indication of his anger, his irritation. It was all professional words...because he had no interest in screwing up at any point of this operation. That included writing up his report. He was meticulous and thorough as usual. Hatred and anger were not reasons to miss out on details. He focused on the screen, pushing away everything else. All the mattered was doing this right.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Is there any question, Alex?" Gibbs asked.

"Not on my side," Alex said. "You were here when we processed the scene. Julia Westin was armed. The angle of the bullets jives with Agent McGee's version of the events. ...to be honest, if he was lying we wouldn't be able to tell from this. They didn't have surveillance in there, as you know, and no one else was in the room besides Agent McGee and Westin. A good lawyer will bring it up, but I don't see any reason for it to be a problem."

"That's good," Tony said.

"But I'd make sure your agent gets his head screwed on straight. He can't act like he was last night. That will bring his testimony into question. None of them are claiming any role for him beyond lackey. We'll ship them up to you. By the way, I've been hearing from the FBI this morning."

Gibbs smiled. "I'm sure that means I will, too."

"Just so you're ready. Well, we've still got lots to do. You guys ready to work?"

Tony muttered something unintelligible...and received a headslap for his trouble.

"We're ready."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Timothy! So the rumors are true!"

Tim jumped out of his skin yet again. He was on his feet spinning around, ready for attack...until he recognized the voice.

"Ducky! Hi."

"I'm sorry I startled you, lad."

"What do you want?" he asked, his eyes shifting briefly to cover the area around him before realizing that it was stupid to think he had to worry about being in this particular building.

"I had heard you were back and wanted to welcome you," Ducky said.

Tim looked at him for a moment and then forced a smile. "You're the first one to do that."

"Am I? Haven't you seen anyone else?"

"Only the three Stooges," Tim muttered, "and they're not likely to welcome me back."

"I had heard there were some fireworks yesterday."

"What? Is everyone talking about me already?" Tim asked angrily.

"Timothy, that's hardly the case, but you must admit that you hitting Tony in the face is worthy of making the rounds."

Tim laughed. "You should have seen his face, Ducky...even before his nose started bleeding."

"Abigail will be happy to see you. She's been very anxious."

Tim felt his fierce satisfaction fade. "I probably _have_ to see her, don't I."

"Why wouldn't you want to?"

"Don't tell her I'm up here. I have work to do. I have to finish my report. It's going to take a long time...not that it matters since I'm being treated like I did something wrong...when I saved their lives, but I need to be able to focus on that...and Abby...she isn't conducive to focusing."

"Timothy, are you feeling all right?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that? I feel fine! You all seem to expect me to fall apart! I'm fine! The operation is over, and I did a good job! Can't anyone accept that?"

"I'm sure you did a good job, Timothy. You are very good at what you do. You don't look like yourself...nor do you sound like yourself. I was worried merely on a personal level."

Tim flushed. "Sorry, Ducky. I'm just so sick of everyone questioning my every move."

"Who has been doing that?"

"Everyone! First and foremost, my 'team'! I at least got Tony to shut his mouth for a while, but even a warning won't stop him for long. Ziva covers it all in being worried about me, but that's only because she thinks she could do it better, and Gibbs just sits back and lets it all happen...except when he decides that _I've_ crossed the line! Heaven forbid he should acknowledge that someone _else_ made a mistake!"

"Timothy, when is your debriefing scheduled for?"

"I don't remember. I'm sure someone will kindly make sure that I don't forget it," Tim said sarcastically.

"Well, you're always welcome to come down to Autopsy if you would like to chat. Goodness knows, I don't get many visitors down there."

Tim smiled, his irritation fading in the face of Ducky's calm demeanor. "I haven't really been down there much myself, I know," he said. "Don't tell Abby I'm up here, okay?"

"If that's what you want, but you know she'll find out."

"I know, but..." Tim hesitated...and looked around again, this time for eavesdroppers. "...but I don't want to see her. Not now."

"Why don't you come down and visit me right now, Timothy?"

"I have to finish my report, Ducky," Tim said, backing off.

"Since they went to Norfolk, they won't be back for quite some time. I can give you a checkup."

"I don't need a checkup, Ducky. I'm _fine_."

"Humor me."

"I don't..."

"Come now, the dead aren't listening very well today. I'd like to have a real conversation. I can look you over and you can chat with me. ...and then we can take our lunch break."

"Ducky..." Tim protested, a bit weakly.

"I would love to have some conversation."

Tim sighed and smiled. "Okay. ...but I'm fine."

"Then, the checkup won't take long at all! ...besides, it will help you avoid Abigail."

Tim responded to Ducky's good-natured cajoling and allowed himself to be directed down to Autopsy.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky kept careful control of his deep worry. Tim's reactions to the simplest of questions were extremely negative. He seemed afraid of being perceived to have slipped up in any way, and Ducky was worried about how much more intense his anger toward his teammates had become since he had seen him a few months before. ...but Tim had begun to respond more like his old self as Ducky had persisted. He had no doubt, however, that if he expressed even a little anxiety, Tim would retreat back to his sarcasm and anger.

"All right, lad, just jump up while I get my bag."

"I'm really okay, Ducky."

"I know. Humor an old man," Ducky said with an encouraging smile.

Tim obeyed with a tolerant expression. Ducky hurried to get his bag. He didn't want to tax Tim's very-limited patience. The examination went quickly because, as Tim had said, physically at least, he wasn't too badly off.

"Well? Aren't I okay?"

"Yes, you were right. Your temperature is a bit elevated as is your heart rate, but I think that is easily explained by your recent experiences. You obviously haven't been getting much sleep lately."

"Why do you say that?" Tim asked, instantly angry.

Ducky laughed gently. "Lad, anyone looking at you could see that."

The anger lasted for a few seconds before ebbing away again.

"You're the only one who's mentioned it."

"Yes, well, I'm trained to look for it."

"So are they..." Tim said bitterly.

Ducky heard the dangerous anger returning.

"How about lunch?"

"I'm not really hungry. I got used to eating less."

"Doctor's orders, Timothy. You need to eat more regular meals. That will help your general well-being. I also think you should get out in the sun more. That should help your sleeping habits. We all need to spend a certain amount of time in the sunshine. It's good for you."

Tim rolled his eyes, but the anger eased away again and he slid off the table.

"I'll listen to my doctor," Tim said and walked with Ducky to the elevator and out of the building.

As they walked to the food court, Ducky noticed Tim's hyper-awareness of his surroundings. He was continually looking around, watching for...whatever. He touched Tim's wrist, felt the momentary trembling and then let go when Tim twitched away from him.

"You have nothing to fear on the Yard, Timothy."

"I'm not afraid," Tim said, a hint of belligerence.

Ducky just smiled and led him along. As they ate lunch together, Ducky found it an exhausting task to keep Tim in a calmer state of mind. He hadn't lost the anger, although he wasn't expressing it so much, nor was much of it directed at Ducky himself. However, Tim occasionally made small digs, just to see if he could get a reaction. They were clever and almost cruel at times. Only Ducky's awareness of Tim's disordered mind kept him from rebuking him. That seemed to be what Tim was trying to get from him. Criticism. As he continued failing to get the desired reaction, the digs lessened. By the time they headed back to NCIS, Tim was much less angry, but Ducky couldn't help wondering if that would last any longer than the amount of time Tim spent in his presence.

"I've got to get back to work, Ducky," Tim said as soon as he stepped off the elevator. "I need to finish my report."

"I have one last medical recommendation."

Tim paused and looked back at Ducky, ready to resist.

"I think you should take some time off when you've finished with the necessary reports and debriefings. It's not required that you leap back into your regular routine."

The reaction he got to that suggestion was not what Ducky expected. Tim just smiled...almost sneered.

"Thanks for the recommendation, Ducky. I'll take it...under advisement."

It looked as though the momentary truce Tim had made with...a small segment of humanity was over. He sat down at his computer and began to work once more...a strangely intense expression on his face as he did so.

Ducky headed back to his domain with a heavy heart. He'd had no idea how bad things had been for Tim. He was surprised that none of his teammates had mentioned it. That was a conversation for another time, however. Right now, he wanted to test his hypothesis. He picked up his phone and dialed Gibbs' number.

"_Gibbs."_

"Hello, Jethro."

"_What, Ducky. We're a little busy."_

"Yes, I'm sure you are. I wanted to ask a favor."

"_What?"_

"Could you just let me know when you all return to NCIS?"

"_Why?"_

"Humor me. Give me a call when you get to the building."

"_Call you?"_

"Yes, Jethro. If you would."

Gibbs sighed and then hung up, but Ducky knew he'd do it. He didn't want to tell Gibbs why just yet because it would change how he reacted to Tim.

His last task before getting back to his real job was to use his access and find out when Tim's debriefing was supposed to take place. He was unpleasantly surprised to note that it should already have been done. That Tim probably knew that and had intentionally missed it was more or less certain.

Ducky wished he understood just what had happened to change Tim from the sweet-natured agent he had known into this rather unlikable man.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_Tim paced agitatedly back and forth, the phone to his ear._

"_Dad, I've tried doing what you wanted me to do! It's not working! I'm tired of it!"_

_He listened to his dad trying to soothe him, calm him down, and he wasn't interested in hearing it._

"_No, Dad! I'm sick of all of them. I'm not going to deal with it anymore! If they don't want to bother, neither do I! I'm not going to come crawling to them over and over just to make them feel better about themselves! I won't do it!" He hung up before he could hear anything else. He stormed out of the dormitory. Everyone was avoiding him at the moment. Good. He had no interest in dealing with people anymore. He'd tried. He'd failed. He wouldn't fail again._

_When he got out to the road, he ran across it to his preferred bench. It was isolated, facing the river, away from the rest of campus. He sat down on it and pulled his knees to his chest. It was evening. He wouldn't be missed. No one ever missed him. He was so glad that next year he'd be in a position to request a single-occupancy dorm. Then, he could stay away from all the people who...who baffled him. He'd be an adult finally and could make his own decisions on what he was doing. No one could beat him down anymore._

_He had listened to his dad and it had all come to nothing. Whether it was his own fault or theirs, he didn't care. All he cared about was that he wouldn't bother with the rest of humanity again. Let them go along and do what they wanted. He would have no part of them._

_The only thing that made him more angry was the fact that he felt like crying at the same time. He hated feeling like this. He had thought MIT would be better than high school. He had thought he'd be able to make friends finally. ...but the people here were just as bad. Apparently, intelligence didn't make people any easier to deal with._

_He looked back over his shoulder once, at all the buildings full of people enjoying themselves. He began to grind his teeth and got up, determined to put as much distance between mankind and himself as possible._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You think McGee is still up there?" Tony asked.

Ziva laughed. "Do not tell me that you are afraid of McGee."

"I'm not! I just think he's being weird and I'd rather avoid being punched in the face for no reason."

"It was not _no_ reason, Tony," Ziva said. "What you said was unnecessary."

"Do you think I deserved to be punched in the face?"

"No, but I cannot blame him for wanting you to shut up."

"Remind me never to get _you_ angry. You'd probably kill me."

_Thwack!_

"If you'd think before you spoke, DiNozzo, we'd probably _all_ be a lot happier," Gibbs said abruptly and pulled out his phone as they reached the building. "Ducky, we're here." Then, he hung up and got on the elevator.

"What was that about, Boss?"

"I have no idea."

Ziva raised an eyebrow. "Then, why did you call Ducky?"

"Because he asked me to."

The doors opened. Tim was still there, staring intently at his monitor.

"Oh, come _on_," Tony said loudly. "He can't have been working on his report all this time."

Tim lifted his head, shot a death glare Tony's way and then looked at his monitor again without speaking. Somehow, the silence was more disturbing than anything he could have said.

"McGee, are you not finished yet?" Ziva asked.

"It was a long operation, Ziva. Did you expect that I could finish it in two pages?" Tim asked, not looking up, but at least responding...even if the tone was nothing short of combative.

"Not at all, but you had all day."

Tim chose to ignore her again, but Gibbs could have sworn he heard Tim grinding his teeth.

"When will you be done with it, McGee?" he asked.

"When I'm _done_. Okay?"

"Did you get your debriefing done, Timothy?" Ducky asked, having come in during the brief exchange.

Tim glared at Ducky. "No."

"It was scheduled for this morning, McGee," Gibbs said.

"Oh, really? I must have missed the time," Tim ground out.

"Timothy, you realize that your debriefing is vital for the conclusion of the case, don't you?"

Gibbs watched with surprise as Tim looked at Ducky and momentarily actually seemed afraid...but when his eyes moved back onto Gibbs, his expression was the same disdainful one they'd become used to seeing.

"I guess I'll have to reschedule, then, won't I?"

"Tomorrow morning, McGee."

"Wow, did you magically reschedule my debriefing with your mind?"

The elevator doors opened, stopping Gibbs' from doling out a deserved headslap.

"Timmy! You're back!"

A black and red blur sped across the room and ran headlong into Tim.

"I'm glad to see you! Why didn't you come down and see me before? I'm so happy that you're okay, and that you're back here!"

Abby couldn't see Tim's face, but she felt his hands grab her shoulders and push her away from him.

"Hi, Abby," he said quickly as he took a couple of steps back from her.

"What's wrong, Tim?" Abby said. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Sure, Abby," Tim said, although it was clear to everyone that he wasn't. "You just surprised me is all. I'm still a bit on edge."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Can I try again?"

Tim smiled slightly. "Not tonight. Tomorrow."

Abby grinned and pouted. "Okay. Okay. I'll be patient. You could have come down to see me, though!"

Abby was oblivious to Tim's mounting discomfort, but for once, Tony and Ziva twigged to it.

"Actually, Abby, we have some things for you to sign in," Ziva said quickly.

"Gathered from Norfolk by yours truly," Tony said.

"Oh, I should probably sign for them before I go home," Abby said, distracted enough that Tony and Ziva were able to lead her to the elevator and back down to the lab. As soon as the doors closed, Tim picked up his bag and walked to the other elevator to leave.

"McGee!"

Tim stopped but didn't turn around.

"Tomorrow morning. I'll tell you when your debriefing is...and you'll go to it."

"If I don't, I'm sure you'll make me wish I had," Tim retorted and continued on his way.

Gibbs watched the doors close.

"Jethro, you're going about this wrong," Ducky said.

"I'm treating him like normal, Ducky...which is better than he deserves considering his behavior."

"If so, then I can see why he hates you all."

"Hates us?" Gibbs turned around and looked at Ducky in surprise.

Ducky laughed. "How could you have missed it, Jethro? If looks could kill, Timothy would have killed you all several times over. Whatever the debriefing reveals, he needs a lot of therapy...and not being treated like 'normal'."

"Everyone coming out of undercover needs therapy. McGee's no different."

"There is something very wrong, Jethro. I'm not sure if you're willfully ignoring it or if you really can't see how far gone Timothy is. He's more than on edge as he said. He's afraid and he's angry...for reasons I don't understand, but can't you see that there's a problem?"

"McGee knows the procedures for undercover work, Ducky. _Vance _chose him for this assignment, not me, but McGee made sure he was as ready as he could be for it. No one is ready for their first time undercover."

"Is that what this is? A power play between yourself and Director Vance? Because he chose the member of your team you would _not_ have chosen?"

"I've been as supportive of McGee as I would have been with the others," Gibbs said, but honesty forced him to continue. "...even if Vance should have asked me before assigning members of my team to various operations."

"Would you have suggested McGee?"

"Absolutely not!"

Ducky smiled. "And you don't think Timothy was aware of it?"

"I did my job...as did Tony and Ziva."

"Are you certain of that?"

"Yes," Gibbs said, but not with as much certainty as before. "McGee will be fine. It will take some time, but he'll be fine, Ducky."

"I wish I could be so confident, Jethro. Make sure he goes to his debriefing tomorrow. Escort him to the room if you must because, based on his behavior with me today, I don't know that he'll go willingly."

"I'll get him there."

"One more thing, Jethro."

"Yeah?"

"Try not to respond to Timothy's jibes. That's what he wants. Why...I couldn't hazard to guess, but he was doing that to me during lunch today, and when I didn't respond in kind, he stopped. I don't know what is going through his mind right now. That's far beyond my capacity to understand, but I can at least see when he is looking for specific stimuli. Don't give him that."

"I won't."

"I mean it, Jethro."

"I heard you, Duck."

Ducky shook his head. "I'm not sure you have really, but I hope that you've heard enough."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was relieved to make it back to his apartment...even if he hated the foreign feeling it gave him to be there. There was no Abby there, no one was there at all. Just him.

_I need to call home. Mom and Dad will want to know I'm back._

He thought about it for a while and then realized that if he called right then, his parents might be gone. He could leave a message and not actually talk to them. He wasn't ready for that. He dialed quickly and listened to the phone ring..and ring.

"_Hello, you've reached Sam and Naomi McGee. Please leave a message after the tone."_

"Hey, Mom, Dad. It's Tim. I'm back and I'm okay. Uh...just wanted to let you know. Um...don't call back. I'll try again later. I'm fine. Bye."

He hung up and walked slowly into the bathroom. He stopped and looked at himself in the mirror. He didn't look like himself.

_Who do you look like then?_

He wasn't sure.

_Yes, you are. You know. You look like Thomas. That's part of the problem. They don't trust what they can't control. Thomas isn't controlled...not by anyone._

Control. He hated it when people took it upon themselves to control his life. Even Ducky, kind as he was about it, was trying to order him around.

_You know what you have to do._

He did. He'd already decided that much, but he'd hoped not to have everything go so wrong. ...but it had. There was nothing to be done.

Tim sat down at his computer and began to type. At first it was hard, but after a few minutes, he laughed as he thought of how he'd deliver the message.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"McGee, come on. It's time for your debriefing," Gibbs said sharply.

Tim forced a sigh. He didn't want to go through this, but he knew that it was required. Not having it might be suspicious for an attorney. That was the only reason he stood up and followed Gibbs. He did laugh at the fact that Gibbs literally led him all the way to the door, knocked for him and essentially forced him to go into the room.

"Thanks, Boss. I don't think I could have found my way on my own. It's a big building," he said sarcastically.

_Thwack!_

"Get in there, McGee."

Tim turned around. "What if I accused you of harassing your team members and told the person in the room that everything going wrong around here was _your_ fault, not mine?"

Gibbs actually looked slightly confused, and Tim laughed at him...and at himself, truth be told.

"Not that anyone would believe that the great Leroy Jethro Gibbs ever does _anything _wrong. After all, light shines out of your every orifice, doesn't it." Then, Tim walked into the room and slammed the door behind him.

The sound of someone clearing her throat startled him, that same intense feeling of fear that gathered in his chest every time something unexpected happened.

"Agent McGee?"

Tim blinked once and then turned around, the long way, before he faced the no-nonsense-looking woman sitting at the table.

"Yes. That's me."

"Good. Why don't you have a seat?"

"Do I have to?" Tim said sharply.

"Not necessarily. It would probably be more comfortable for you, but if you'd rather stand, feel free."

"I already do," Tim said, but after a few seconds sat down at the table.

"Okay. Let's get started, shall we?"

"Do I have any choice?"

"Well, you didn't show up yesterday; so I'd assume that you do have some."

"I have things to do today. Is this part of the debriefing?"

"I'm Dr. Nielson. I'll be conducting this debriefing today," she said with a slight smile.

"Great. Let's get on with it."

"There are some formalities to get out of the way and then we'll get on with it."

"Like what?"

"First, I have to emphasize that this is confidential. What you say in here is not going to come back to haunt you later on. It's a chance to go through what happened in during the operation and your experiences while undercover. It is also to determine any future referrals which might be needed."

"Referrals? For what?"

"For therapy should I determine it is necessary. Most agents coming out of undercover need a few sessions with a licensed therapist to help them...normalize, get back into the flow of their lives."

"And if the agents don't agree?"

"Then, they'll have to present a very good case for _why_ they don't agree. If they have just cause for protesting the recommendations, and Director Vance agrees, then the therapy requirement will be removed."

"Wait...requirement?"

"Yes. Should I recommend therapy, it will be a requirement for return to field duty."

Tim felt irritated at that. What right did she have to say what he had to do? ...but he didn't say anything aloud.

"Any other questions before we get going, Agent McGee?"

"No. No questions."

"All right. Let's get started, then. ...beginning with your chosen persona."

"What about it?"

"Let's just talk about Thomas Allen MacKay for a bit. How did you choose him?"

"I don't understand."

"You created this identity. You chose the name, the history...everything. How?"

"I picked a name that was close to my own. That's what everyone does. We had to have someone good with computers so that the group we were investigating would want to use me. I gave him a history a lot like mine...same basic education, but without the NCIS, obviously."

"And what about _who_ he was. How did you decide what kind of a person he would be?"

Tim felt badgered by her questions. ...and he was angry that the only person to ask him this was the one who _had_ to, not people who were supposed to _care_ what the answers were. So...he lied. It's not like it mattered to Dr. Nielson.

"I chose a person who would be willing to break the law. Had to be. He had to be willing to engage with pretty much anyone. I practiced and that's it."

"That's it?"

"That's what I said."

"All right. How much time did it take before you were ready to actually go undercover?"

Tim was already past his point of tolerance, but as the questions kept coming, no matter how nicely asked, he got more and more upset, but he thought he hid it tolerably well. It wasn't like she cared anyway.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Timmy, don't go!" Sarah begged._

_Tim smiled and hugged his sister. "Don't worry, Sarah, I'll come back to visit."_

"_But I don't want you to go! MIT is really far away!"_

"_But _I_ want to go, Sarah."_

"_Why?"_

"_So that I can go to school."_

"_You can go to school here!"_

"_No, I can't."_

"_Why not?"_

_Tim looked around to make sure their parents weren't there. No sign of adults._

"_Because I don't have friends here, Sarah...and I _can't _have friends here. If I go to MIT, I can make friends."_

"_I'm your friend...aren't I?"_

"_You're my sister, Sarah. That's better than a friend...but I want friends, too. At college I can have friends. No one will be pushing me around there. We'll all be smart; so there's no reason for bullies!"_

"_Tim, are you ready?"_

_Tim looked up. "Yeah, Mom. I'm ready."_

"_You want to tell your father good-bye?"_

_Tim hesitated. They were still at an awkward stage...but..._

"_Yeah. I will." _

_Naomi followed him out of the room. When they were alone, she stopped him._

"_Tim, remember that making friends takes effort on your part. You can't force people to like you."_

"_Don't you think they will?" Tim asked, suddenly worried._

"_I think that if you let them see the wonderful son I know and love, they will...but you'll never be everyone's friend."_

_Tim sighed before heading into the study, feeling much older than his 16 years. "I'd settle for one, Mom."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Do you think we did something wrong, Tony?" Ziva asked, looking speculatively up at the room where Tim was being debriefed.

"Wrong? In what context?" Tony asked, glaring at his monitor.

"This operation, McGee being undercover. Do you think we did wrong?"

"We treated him like we treat each other. Remember when we were assassins? You didn't have any problem with kneeing me in the groin."

"You were being disgusting."

"Well, I don't think we acted any differently with McGee."

Ziva looked at the data on her own screen. The gun they had recovered from the scene had Julia's fingerprints on it...but it had not been fired. That Tim was telling the truth about what had happened she believed...but what exactly had happened in that room? It seemed unlikely that Tim had told them everything. It was too simple.

"Perhaps we should have."

"He's an agent, Ziva. If he wants to do the job, he has to accept what it's like here."

"Yes, but is it the best way?"

"Did anyone coddle _you_?"

"No."

"No one coddled _me_ when I was undercover. If McGee thinks he should have been, then he shouldn't have gone undercover in the first place."

"He did not choose to. Vance did."

"Yeah, but he was plenty eager to do it and you know it."

"Yes, that is true."

"This isn't our fault."

"I was not assigning blame. I was just trying to figure out what had caused such a change in McGee's behavior."

"He's trying to be tough, Ziva."

Ziva looked at Tony with an inscrutable expression.

"What?"

"You are worried about him, too."

Tony quickly shook his head. "No. I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No. I'll worry about him if he's still like this after seeing a shrink. You know he'll have to. Everyone does. If that doesn't help, then I'll be worried. We have procedures for stuff like this."

Ziva nodded. What Tony said was true. Tim couldn't expect to be the exception to the rules of going undercover. She could wait and let people trained help him...and get him back to normal. That was how things worked. A few weeks of therapy and Tim would be back to normal.

Right?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Is there anything else you'd like to tell me, Agent McGee?" Dr. Nielson asked.

"No. I didn't _want_ to tell you _anything_."

"I appreciate you humoring me. I'll be giving my report to Director Vance."

"And?"

"And I'm going to recommend a few meetings with a therapist, someone who can help you work through all the stress of the operation."

"I don't need any of that! I'm fine. The operation is over and it was successful. Why won't anyone believe me?"

"I do believe you, but I also believe that you need some extra help. You're still very tense, Agent McGee."

"I've been interrogated by you for the last two hours. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're free to go. I'll give my recommendations to Director Vance and he'll probably arrange for another time when we can go over the best course of action."

Tim didn't answer. Instead, he stood up and walked out, coming just shy of slamming the door behind him.

She smiled but at the same time was amazed at the contrast between Tim's previous psych evaluation and the sense she was getting from him here and now, i.e. someone on the verge of exploding. He didn't trust her and, in fact, seemed to view her with the utmost suspicion, as if he expected her to be working against him. He seemed to have suffered a complete personality shift, but she was willing to chalk a lot of it up to the strangely-thorough history of Thomas Allen MacKay. Tim had said as little as he possibly could in answer to everything she had asked.

It wasn't that she hadn't been greeted with suspicion before. Some people viewed debriefings as a way of assigning blame for anything that might have gone wrong, but based on what Ducky had told her in his impromptu sit-rep on her arrival this morning, it seemed that Tim had begun viewing _everyone _this way...and it wasn't his normal point of view. Every attempt to dig deeper had been firmly rebuffed. He had said only what was necessary to answer her questions. For someone who had been consistently profiled as having a more-or-less stable personality, he had changed...drastically. In layman's terms, Dr. Nielson would have described him as a loose cannon, an accident waiting to happen. There was an edge of anger in everything he said and did. It was obvious in his very demeanor.

She couldn't, in good conscience, hold back her recommendation. There was no way Tim McGee should be allowed to go back to work in his current state, if for no other reason than that he seemed to have no awareness of the extremity of his behavior. That was worrying.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Left alone again with his report, Tim made a lot of progress, but as he laid out everything he'd done, another moment of questioning came to him...the things he'd done while undercover... Were they justified?

_Don't let their doubts get in your way. You did everything right. If they'd open their eyes, they'd see it too._

Even so...he knew more than ever that his decision was the right one...only one more day.

His phone rang.

"Agent McGee," he said.

"_Agent McGee, Director Vance would like to speak with you."_

"Now?"

"_If you're available."_

"Yes. I'll be right up."

He hung up the phone and thought about it. Now was as good a time as any...besides, he thought with a smile, it would give him the chance to set up the ultimate fall for Gibbs. Down he would tumble off that ridiculous pedestal. Everyone would know just how terrible he was.

Everyone.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Vance stood up as Tim entered the office, a small gesture that made Tim feel as though he was at least being acknowledged.

"Agent McGee, please have a seat."

"Thank you, sir." In the presence of the one person who had shown faith in him, Tim felt almost like himself. His goals hadn't changed, but his anger was much less intense in this room.

"I've just received Dr. Nielson's recommendations."

"Yes, sir." Tim felt a surge of anger, but he clenched his jaw and made no comment. Dr. Nielson and her asinine assumptions about his state of mind made his blood boil.

"There's nothing wrong with needing to see a psychiatrist," Vance said calmly. "It's normal after a long undercover operation. Almost everyone requires it."

"I _know_," Tim said, his hands clenching to fists. He moved them to his lap and tried to keep himself from screaming out the injustice.

Vance gave him a long glance and leaned forward. "Agent McGee, is there anything you'd like to tell me? Anything at all? It doesn't have to leave this office."

Tim smiled...or rather his lips turned up. There was no happiness expressed...because he felt none, only a sense of satisfaction at putting his plan into action.

"Actually, yes, Director Vance. There _is _one thing I would like to tell you."

"What's that?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Jimmy stared at the body of Julia Westin. Two shots. Tim hadn't missed.

"Dr. Mallard?"

Ducky didn't look up from the autopsy. This was not a moment he was relishing, and in fact, he wasn't even sure he wanted to hear what this young lady might have to say. "Yes, Mr. Palmer?"

"What's up with McGee?"

Ducky paused in his slow steady cut down the torso and looked at his assistant.

"In what respect, Mr. Palmer?"

Jimmy hesitated and kind of shrugged.

"If it should not leave this room, it won't."

Jimmy nodded and then said quickly, "I heard him talking to Gibbs."

"About what?"

"I'm not sure, but I've never heard McGee talk like that before. He was all sarcastic and stuff like...well, I don't know _what_ he was like, but it wasn't like McGee. It was...he was really mad."

"Ah. Well, I'm not entirely certain myself. He's not talking to me about it and seems to be playing with his cards close to his chest."

Jimmy snorted.

"Something amusing you, Mr. Palmer?"

Jimmy cleared his throat quickly. "No, Doctor. Nothing."

"Well, then, perhaps we should get back to work. This young lady had her secrets, I'm sure, but she won't share them if we let her lie here forever."

"Yes, Dr. Mallard." Jimmy watched in silence for a few seconds but couldn't resist one more question. "Dr. Mallard?"

"Yes, Mr. Palmer?"

"Is he going to be all right?"

Ducky looked up and then sighed. "I hope so, Mr. Palmer. I truly hope so."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I'm resigning from NCIS. I'm sorry but I can't give you two weeks' notice," Tim said, carefully keeping his voice even.

Vance's eyes widened although he gave no other sign of shock.

"May I ask why?"

Tim smiled slightly. "You may...but I can't tell you."

"Can't? Or won't?"

How to answer a question like that? Of course he _could_ answer his question, but doing so would ruin his plans...and he wasn't willing to do that. Besides...that would mean revealing all the things that would be used to break him down. He didn't want that, not now, not with the one person who'd had faith in him. So...he _almost_ lied.

"A little of both, sir. You'll understand when you read my report."

"Is this because of the operation?"

Tim looked away, toward the window. Freedom.

"If so, I'm sorry I put you in that position. I still think that you were the best choice for the assignment, but I would have gone with second best if it meant keeping you at NCIS."

Tim dragged his gaze back to Vance. Inside, he wanted to laugh. How was it possible that Vance thought he was best for the job and yet his own teammates thought him incompetent?

"No, sir. I appreciate you trusting me. I've always wanted to have the chance to go undercover and you, at least, gave me that. Thank you."

"Are you saying that others _don't_ trust you?"

Tim shrugged, although inside he was screaming _No! No one trusts me! No one _ever_ trusts me! All they do is look at me as someone who can't even tie his own shoelaces!_

"I'm not quite finished with my report, sir."

"If it's vacation time you need, Agent McGee, you've more than earned it."

"It's not that. I'm tired, but that's not why I'm resigning." Tim began to feel a need to get away from the room. He just wanted to finish and get away, but he hadn't finished setting up what was going to happen next. He tried to keep his impatience under control. He felt his whole body tensing up at the continual questions. Why did everyone question him?

"Is it your team?"

"I'd like to tell them myself, if you don't mind, Director Vance," Tim said, suddenly wanting to grin and feeling a return of his ire at the reminder of how he'd been treated. "They _deserve_ to hear it from me."

Vance raised an eyebrow. Tim wondered if he'd tipped his hand, but then Vance sighed. "There's nothing I can do to convince you to stay? Even transferring to another team?"

"No, sir. I've made my decision. I'm quitting, and I'm not coming back. It's what I need to do."

"Very well. I'll wait until Monday to process your request. It will give you the chance to talk to your teammates. If you change your mind..."

"I won't." Tim stood up and started to leave but retained just enough respect for Vance that he paused. "Was that everything, Director Vance?"

"Yes, Agent McGee. You can go." Vance stood up and walked over to Tim who backed up a step or two before remembering that Vance was unlikely to try and hurt him.

_I'd like to see him try._

"It's been a great pleasure to work with you, Agent McGee."

No one else would say that. No one _ever_ said that. Not ever. "Thanks for trusting me, Director."

"You've earned it."

Tim clenched his jaw so tightly that his teeth began to ache as he walked out of the office and down to his desk. He sat down at his computer and looked around. No one was there. He went back to his report. He was almost done.

There was a strange sound that made him pause...and he realized it was his own teeth grinding back and forth, back and forth.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby came running into the bullpen. Tim hadn't come down to see her at all and while she'd tried to be patient, she was done with that. Tim had been given enough time to come and get a hug voluntarily. He needed a hug, even if he didn't see it.

"Tim!"

She came around the corner and the desk was empty. Tim was clearly there somewhere, but she couldn't see him.

"Abby, what are you doing up here?" Gibbs asked.

"Looking for Tim!" Abby said. "He told me that I could hug him today, but he hasn't been down to see me at all. So I decided I'd come up to him instead." She grinned.

"He's not down in your lab?"

"No. He's not with you?"

"He's been working on his report today, and he had to have his debriefing."

"So is he back to normal?"

"Back to normal? Abby, it's been two days."

"Yeah? I know that, Gibbs, but it's Tim, and I don't like to see him like he was yesterday."

"Well, he looks about the same as he did."

"But _why_?"

Gibbs sighed. "Abby, he was undercover for seven months. He's not going to change back overnight."

Abby nodded and her shoulders slumped. "I didn't like how he looked at me, Gibbs. There's something wrong."

"If so, a hug won't help."

Abby put her hands on her hips and glared. "Don't you see how wrong Tim is, Gibbs? How could you not be worried?"

"He needs space, Abby, not coddling."

"Have you even _asked_ if he's okay?"

"Yes, and he said he was fine."

"...but he's not...and you've got to know that, Gibbs!" She tried staring Gibbs down but finally she sighed. "Let him know I was looking for him, okay?"

"I will."

Abby gave in and went back down to the lab. Secretly, she pulled up the image of Tim from the end of his operation. There was a look in his eyes, something that was so very un-Tim-like. It frightened her. If she only looked in his eyes, she could swear that she was looking at a stranger, not at a close friend.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim hid from everyone for the rest of the day, until the evening when he could no longer avoid his team. He'd managed to avoid Abby. He didn't want to see her, not again. Something about her disturbed him.

"How nice of you to grace us with your presence, McGee," Tony said. "Where have you been?"

"None of your business," Tim muttered and sat down at his computer.

"You're not finished yet?"

Tim slammed his mouse on his desk so hard that he broke it, but he ignored that. Instead, he stood up and glared at Tony.

"Tony, when _you_ have been undercover solidly for seven months as an assistant to drug dealers, _then_ you can complain about how much I have to report on. Until that day, you can shut up. I'll be done before Monday. I can't go back to work yet anyway; so what's it to you?"

"We are just concerned," Ziva said.

"Whatever. I'll be finished."

"McGee!"

Tim looked back over his shoulder. "What, Gibbs?"

"My office."

Tim shook his head and laughed shortly. "No."

"No?"

"That's right. I said no. I have to finish this report and going onto the elevator to have you stare at me in silence for ten minutes is not going to help me finish my report any faster. What do you want more? To stare or have me finish my work?"

Everyone in the bullpen paused. Tim and Gibbs were only looking at each other, but everyone else was looking them as well. Tim's expression was nothing short of insolent. Gibbs as unreadable as ever. For once, it was in question as to who would back down.

"What? No head slap?" Tim taunted. "No abrupt orders? No mute gestures? I guess you don't know what to do when people don't immediately hop to."

This had been an unexpected development, but Tim was enjoying every minute of it. It was clear that Gibbs had no idea what to do. He'd lose face if he backed down, but he could probably sense that Tim himself wouldn't back down either. Tim let his mouth stretch into a cynical grin and then he sat down at his computer.

"If you decide what you're going to do, Gibbs, let me know. Otherwise, I'll be working right over here."

The mouse was a write-off Tim could see that right away. He had a spare mouse in his desk. Always be prepared, although he knew no one would notice that he had backup ready in case of such an occurrence. They never noticed when he did things right. Only when he did things wrong.

Gibbs said nothing but headed off to wherever he went. To sulk, maybe. Tim chuckled softly to himself and didn't bother to look at anyone. He could feel the tension in the air, the awkwardness. No one could believe that wimpy Tim McGee would stand up to the almight Gibbs.

_You showed him. Now, go all the way._

That made Tim pause. He couldn't do that. Yes, it might be nice, even intensely satisfying, but he couldn't do that. He wouldn't go that far.

_Why not? He deserves it! Gibbs shouldn't be the exception to every rule!_

_If I'm really better than Gibbs, then I shouldn't stoop that low. ...and I'm better._

He snuck out of the bullpen an hour later and stayed away until he could be reasonably sure of everyone else being gone. They were. He smiled. The bullpen wouldn't stay empty for long. He had to work fast. He knew he could work fast enough, but one person happening by could ruin it. He sat down at Tony's computer, a few quick keystrokes and he was done. Then, Ziva's. Last of all, Gibbs'. All in all, it took him about twenty minutes.

He hurried back to his own computer, printed off his report, put a copy of it in his desk, along with his badge and gun and sent another copy off to Vance. He was pretty sure that Vance would prefer him gone once he read about all the things he'd done, but he was also sure that Vance would be furious at Gibbs' obliviousness. That would make it all worth it, even if he wasn't there to see it.

He hoped that it would be a public dressing down...although Vance was a lot classier than that.

_One thing is for sure. You've left your mark on NCIS. They'll know you're gone!_

Tim laughed to himself, grabbed his bag and left the bullpen. He was ready for the weekend.

...but he didn't sleep a wink that night.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Ducky walked out of NCIS late that night. He was in no hurry to get to his home. Some days, it felt very lonely. Today would be one of those days.

"Ducky?"

Ducky smiled. "Jethro. What has you standing out here in the dark?"

"Waiting for you."

"You could have come down."

"Been thinking."

"And? The results of your thoughts?"

"I was wrong about McGee. Something happened to him that I don't understand. Is it too late?"

"That I don't know, Jethro. What brought you to this conclusion?"

"I looked him in the eye...for what I think was the first time in weeks. I didn't know the person I saw."

"Well, we have a couple of days. By Monday, surely, between the two of us, we can come up with a plan."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Fifteen years ago..._

"Hey, Matt, look who returned for another year among his inferiors."

Matt looked back over his shoulder. Sure enough. There was Tim McGee. He stifled a sigh. He'd hoped that, after last year, Tim would find somewhere else to go to school, somewhere with people who were more...like him. MIT obviously wasn't good enough for Tim McGee. He'd made that abundantly clear.

"Yep. I see." Then, he looked more closely. Tim was alone. He had a few bags but no one with him. "Where's his family, do you think?"

"Maybe they're not good enough for him either," Justin said.

"Maybe."

"Hey, Matt, where you at this year, old man?"

"I'm only four years older than you are, Justin."

"And a year behind. Are you sticking with the dorms?"

"Yeah, it's easier. I even got the same room."

"Excellent! We're on the same floor this year! I can bug you for your notes so much easier!"

"You could try taking your _own_ notes."

"Where's the fun in that? Hey, you need any help with your stuff?"

Matt nodded and let Justin grab one of his bags. No one commented on his mangled hand anymore. It was just part of who he was. Still, he paused once more and watched as Tim struggled across the quad toward the building. Alone. There was something really forlorn about him this year. ...but he'd brought it on himself. He turned and walked into the building.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The cafeteria was packed on the first night before classes began. Matt, Justin and a few others took over one of the larger tables. There were still about five empty chairs, but they were all crowded around, comparing courses and seeing if they were going to be able to have the same study groups as the year before.

Justin looked up and noticed Tim walking in their direction.

"Sorry, McGee. No room," he said with a perfectly straight face, even though he was sitting beside one of the empty chairs.

The others paused their conversations and stared at Tim who looked at them with a deer-in-the-headlights expression...for only a split second before the old superior expression took its usual place.

"I wasn't coming over here anyway," he said and made a beeline for one of the windows. He sat down on the sill and began to eat. Alone. Matt noticed that he had crammed a few of the items into his bag as he left, eating only the main course in the cafeteria.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There he was. Matt almost wished he could change his major. He and Tim had the exact same classes. ...which didn't make any sense now that he thought about it.

"Hey, Justin."

"What?"

"How in the world is Tim in our classes this year?"

"I dunno. Why are you worrying about it? We ignore him. He ignores us. It's a win-win situation."

Matt shrugged but he was surprised when Tim shuffled into the back corner rather than his usual front-and-center position. Something was different about him this year.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Hey, Tim."

Tim was sitting on a bench. Alone. Reading a physics textbook. It was Saturday. Most everyone else was enjoying the beautiful fall day. He looked up and Matt again saw that flash of...fear, was it? ...before that same disdainful expression settled on his face.

"What?"

"Don't you get enough of school during the week?" Matt asked, keeping his voice friendly, even as Tim's tone put him off.

"No." He looked back at his book and turned the page.

Matt hesitated and then sat down. Tim stiffened and edged away from him.

"Don't you do anything else?"

"No." Tim didn't even look up this time, but he was tensed as if for a fight.

"Why not?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Just wondering."

"Wonder somewhere else. I'm busy."

"Free country. I can sit here."

Tim closed his book, grabbed his bag and stood up. "Fine. Sit here, old man. I can leave." He walked away, stopped, turned around, opened his mouth to speak and then turned back and ran toward the library.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Matt came back from Thanksgiving glad of the break and even more glad that Christmas break wasn't too far away.

"Guess who didn't go home for Thanksgiving, I hear," Justin said.

"McGee?"

"Got it in one. Jaya told me that she found him in the library totally zonked on Thanksgiving morning. Looked like he'd spent all night there. You know, if that's what it takes to be as smart as he says he is, I'll take being dumb."

"Yeah, me, too. I'm surprised he didn't go home, though. I mean, he's what? Seventeen?"

"How could you forget with him telling us over and over again how he was so much younger than us?"

Matt laughed, but more and more he was feeling pity rather than contempt. Tim seemed to be a very lonely person. He had watched over the course of the first couple of months of the semester as Tim had made tentative moves toward the same people he'd so firmly put down the year before...and been totally rebuffed by them all. No one had time for Tim McGee and his holier-than-thou attitude anymore. Smart he might be, but it wasn't worth listening to him lord his intelligence over everyone else. He had stopped drawing _any_ attention to himself. He only spoke to the professors, and then only after or before class. Matt had seen him in various professors' offices on occasion, but in class itself, he said nothing. He worked alone in the labs. He shared a dorm, but that was because he had to. His roommate was the one guy no one wanted to share with. It had seemed funny and a case of just desserts before. Now, Matt wasn't so sure.

Still, Tim had rejected all of Matt's attempts to be friendly. He'd heard that a few others had been similarly rejected. Maybe Tim just didn't _want_ to have friends.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

A heavy blast of winter hit MIT at the beginning of February. Students dashed from building to building trying to avoid the biting cold wind and the icy snow. Matt was engaged in a similar dash when he saw someone slip on an icy patch and land flat on his back. He ran over.

"Hey, you all right?"

"I'm fine. I don't need your help."

The voice surprised him. It seemed embarrassed...and afraid.

"Here, let me help you save your papers at least."

"That's not a paper!" Tim shouted as Matt picked up something that was surprisingly hard. "Give it back!"

"Sure, okay. Is that a record?"

Tim's face turned red and he tucked it into his old worn backpack.

"Yeah."

"You listen to records?"

"What of it?" Tim asked belligerently.

"I'm just surprised is all. A techy like you liking something so old-fashioned."

"You get the best sound from records. CDs aren't as good for the old stuff," Tim said, a strangely unguarded moment...and a voice totally different from anything Matt had heard before.

"You got that right. The older songs are _made_ for records, not CDs. Where do you listen to them?"

"In my dorm. ...when Manny's gone."

"Here's your homework," Matt said, handing over a few damp pages...but not before he'd got a glimpse of a red C on them. He didn't make a comment, but he knew Tim saw his wandering eyes. The moment of humanity was over.

Tim grabbed the pages, jammed them into his bag and got up, limping a little but sprinting for the building.

Matt began to walk more slowly in his tracks. So the little genius wasn't doing so well. A few months ago, he would have gone and told Justin and the others and they'd have had a big laugh about it. Now, he was struck more than ever with the fact that Tim was really..._really_ young to be on his own at college. It wasn't just age. It was something more. Tim seemed too young to be here.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

February trudged on and Matt began to feel the stress and burden of all the work he was doing. Even with his friends, it was hard being older than everyone else around him. Sure, twenty-six wasn't _that_ old, but he sure felt old. Still, he was glad that there was _something_ he could do since losing three fingers to the U.S. Army. He'd never fight again, but he could do _something_. It was just that he was doing a major in computer science _and_ a major in business. It was driving him crazy at the moment, and so when three a.m. rolled around and he was still awake, he gave up on sleeping for the time being and headed out to the common room. It was unlikely that anyone would be there. A few more days and it would be President's Day long weekend. A brief reprieve.

Someone else was in the room already. Tim was sitting at one of the tables, bent over a book as always, but there was something different about him this time. In the light of the lamp by his downturned face, Matt saw tears on Tim's cheeks.

"Tim, what are you doing up?"

Tim jumped, hurriedly wiped at his face and tried to sound as arrogant as he always did.

"What are _you_ doing up?"

Matt shrugged. "Stressed out. It's midterm time coming up. I don't sleep well usually."

Tim sniffed. "I'm doing homework. Leave me alone."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Go away!"

"It's the common room. I don't have to, Tim. Why are you studying out here?"

"Manny has...company." Another sniff and hurried swipe across his cheek. "And I have to finish this..." He swallowed. "...it's due tomorrow."

"What class?"

"Homological algebra."

"Wow. Why are you taking that? It's not required."

"It's interesting. Go away. I have to finish."

"Oh, come on. I'll bet you have like 150 percent in that class."

"I don't." To Matt's surprise, Tim's lip actually started quivering as he tried not to cry. "I...I failed the last test. I know you saw my homework. I have to get this done."

Matt sat down across the table. "What's going on, Tim?"

"Nothing!" Tim looked up and Matt saw his red eyes.

"Right. You're not crying about your homework, are you?"

"None of your business. What do you care?"

"Easy. I don't like seeing people so miserable...as you obviously are."

Tim head dropped again. "My dad's...in the hospital...again. Mom called me earlier today."

"Again?"

"He's...paralyzed, and it's my fault."

Matt was glad that Tim wasn't looking at him because he couldn't hide his surprise. That the great Tim McGee could possibly have that kind of problem seemed...against type. Tim had all the hallmarks of someone who'd had everything open to him, everything easy, leading him to a feeling of superiority. This broken teenager didn't jive with what everyone had assumed.

"Your fault?"

"Car accident, couple of years ago. On my birthday. I was driving. Hit a city bus. I broke my leg. Dad was paralyzed from the waist down. He's in a wheelchair...and he will be for the rest of his life. He's been having problems with his digestive system, I guess, for a few months."

"You guess? Didn't he have them at Christmas?"

"I didn't go home for Christmas."

"What?"

"I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"I...I couldn't afford to go, okay?" Tim looked up, tears streaming down his cheeks, trying to be angry.

"How much does a bus ticket cost?"

"Too much. I'm here on scholarship, you know."

"Yeah, I know. You told us all...a few times."

Anger began winning over Tim's obvious sorrow. "Look! I don't need your help! Go away!"

"Hey, I'm sorry. Why can't you afford the Greyhound?"

Tim hesitated and Matt thought that he'd clam up again, but after a few seconds he continued, words tumbling over each other as Tim spoke more than he had all year long.

"Because of the accident. We were fine before that. Dad bought the car...I crashed. But...he was in the hospital for a long time. He couldn't work. I was in the hospital. Rehab. Renovating the house so Dad could live there. ...we got sued. Dad went back to the hospital again and again. Mom had to get a job. I work all summer to pay for my living expenses. Last year, there was enough that Mom could help me out with bus fare." He shook his head. "Not this year. I barely have enough to be here. We weren't even sure I could come. We own our house and...and Dad still technically has a job; so we don't qualify for the federal student aid. There's just...not enough."

"So...you're not going to go see him?"

It was an innocent question, but Tim instantly bristled as if Matt had criticized him.

"I just told you I couldn't afford it! Do you think I'm _lying_? Do you think that I skip breakfast every morning for fun?" He started to stand up, grabbing for his textbook.

Matt grabbed his arm.

"Let go!"

"Tim, wait! Sit down. I was just asking. I wasn't trying to say you should."

For a moment, Tim pulled against Matt's hand but then seemed to wilt back down into the chair.

"Should or not...I can't...not if I want to have even one meal per day." He laughed. "I'm not even old enough for a credit card, yet."

Matt chuckled. "You don't eat breakfast at all?"

Tim shook his head. "Usually I save something from dinner."

"What about lunch?"

Another shake.

"Not ever?"

Shake.

"Can't you get a job?"

"No. I don't have time! I'm taking a full course load, as many credits as my scholarship allows and...and I'm sitting in on a bunch of others so that I can...get ahead...in case I can't come back...and why would they hire a teenager when there are college students everywhere around? ...and..." He looked at his textbook. "...and I have to finish my homework. It's all I have...and I just can't get it."

Finally, Tim actually started to cry, wrapping his arms around himself. Matt noticed for the first time the dark circles under Tim's eyes, the sunken hollows of someone who was used to carrying a bit more weight. In short, he was a perfect picture of misery. Matt wasn't sure what to do. There were too many things Tim had said that he couldn't help. Then, his eyes fell on Tim's homework. He reached out and picked it up. Tim reacted instantly, snatching it back.

"That's mine! Leave it alone!"

"I just want to help."

"Yeah, right."

"Tim, I'm not even _in_ that class. Why would I steal your assignment?"

Tim subsided and didn't answer.

"I took this last year. Let me see if I can see where you're going wrong."

"What makes you think I'm wrong?" Tim retorted.

Matt smiled. "Because you failed your last test and you're getting C's on your assignments."

Tim managed a weak smile.

"Let me look."

Almost timidly, Tim slid his page across the table. It was crumpled now, but Matt simply smoothed it out and scanned the problem set Tim had been attempting.

"Oh, you should be using the Mayer-Vietoris sequence here. That's your problem."

"Mayer-Vietoris?"

"Yeah. You have to have learned that."

"Yes...but..." Tim pulled the page back and looked at the problems. Matt saw the moment the light came on. "Oh. I see." Tim began to write at a furious pace. Matt was surprised to see the speed with which he worked. It seemed that Tim really was pretty smart. Tim asked no questions. He worked in silence for another hour before he finished the set.

"Understand now?" Matt asked.

"Yes." Tim closed his textbook...and then pulled out another one.

"I think you should probably go to sleep, not study."

"I'm behind. I have to catch up."

"If you fall asleep in class, you only fall further behind, you know."

Tim smiled.

"Come on, Tim. Take the time to sleep. It won't kill you."

It took some cajoling, but eventually Tim did close up all his books and allowed Matt to force him back to his dorm. Matt didn't say anything, but if Manny was still in there, he planned to kick him out. ...but the room was empty when they arrived. Tim dropped his bag on the floor and kicked it under the bed to get it out of the way. He didn't bother to change, choosing instead to lie down and close his eyes. He was asleep before Matt closed the door.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Come on, Matt! Time for our one Tim-free class!"

Matt laughed good-naturedly but then looked around. "Where _is_ he?"

"Oh, he's still asleep," Manny said from his spot on one of the chairs. "He didn't even move when I turned on my music this morning."

"The genius is asleep? No way!" Justin said.

"You mind if I go check on him, Manny?" Matt asked.

"Go ahead. I don't care. The _wunderkind_ might."

"We're going to be late," Jaya warned him.

"I'll make it!"

Matt ran to Tim's room. He knocked. No response. He opened the door and there was Tim lying on his bed, dead to the world. His snoring at least let Matt know that he wasn't _actually_ dead. Quickly, he searched under Tim's bed, pulled out his homework and ran. Tim never stirred.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You searched through my bag!" Tim shouted as he ran into the cafeteria. The lunch rush was just ending, and what noise there was quickly faded away as Tim began to rant. On the surface it was almost comical. Tim was tall but gangly where Matt was slightly shorter but with a _lot_ more muscle. Matt stood up.

"Tim, I didn't steal your homework," he said calmly.

"I should have known you weren't really trying to be nice! I knew it! You were just–"

"Tim, I handed it in for you so you'd get credit for it."

"Handed it in? What do you mean?"

"Tim, it's lunchtime. It's after noon. Your class is over."

The rant ended as suddenly as it had begun, but everyone was staring at the two men. It was preternaturally quiet. Tim's face went bright red and he ran out. Matt sighed and moved to follow him.

"Why are you bothering, Matt? He doesn't want anyone's help or anyone's company."

"He's having a bad day. I'll be back. Don't eat my fries!"

He found Tim trudging through the snow, not toward any building but toward the river. He had a coat, but no hat, no gloves. The snow had stopped but that had allowed the wind to feel even colder.

"Tim, wait up!"

Tim didn't. He began to walk faster instead.

"Tim, hold up a minute!" Matt jogged until he came level. Tim was obviously ashamed, not just embarrassed...and almost afraid, it seemed. "I didn't wake you up since you needed the sleep. I'm sorry if I should have."

"My mistake," Tim whispered.

"Where are you going?"

"To think."

"Think? You have to do that outside?"

"Leave me alone."

"You're going the wrong way."

"No, I'm not."

"Yeah, you are...because you need to pack a bag."

Tim was surprised enough that he finally stopped. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm going to give you a ride to see your dad. It's the long weekend. We can drive to Ohio in a day, easy. You can hang out for a couple of days and we can come back."

"No! No, you can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because...it's too expensive. It's too far. There's class tomorrow. Electrodynamics."

"I already talked to Professor Jorgenson."

"You what? No! I can't miss class!"

"Tim, you told me that your dad is in the hospital. You haven't seen your family in months. That's more important than school. Heck, a _lot_ of things are more important than school."

"I don't have anything else. I can't fail."

"Missing one class won't make you fail."

"It could...and I can't."

"You need to go home more than you need to go to Electrodynamics."

"I'm still behind. I have to catch up."

"I can't figure you out, Tim. Don't you _want_ to see your family?"

"It doesn't matter," Tim said. "I'm here to go to school. I _have_ to finish it."

Matt laughed incredulously. "Is that how you see it? You can't do anything _but_ school?"

"I can't afford to do anything else."

"You don't have to do things that cost money."

"No, you don't understand. If I fail...if I get kicked out...I don't have anything else to offer! No one likes me. I'm incompetent in everything else. This is all I have."

"No, you're wrong. You have a family, Tim...and that's important to keep. Let me give you a ride."

Tim turned away from him, and Matt figured he was going to say no, but he just stared out at the river.

"Okay."

"Great! I checked the weather already. If we leave now, we'll get there really late, but we should have good weather the whole way."

"I can't drive."

Matt paused but then rallied. "That's all right. You can keep me awake while _I_ drive."

Tim wouldn't look at him, but he headed back toward the dorms. Matt went back to the cafeteria and told his friends that he'd be gone for the weekend.

"Why are you doing this for him?"

Matt sighed. "Justin, his dad's in the hospital."

Everyone fell silent.

"He hasn't been able to afford to go home. He can barely afford being here at all. I'm giving him a ride so that he can see his dad."

"Do you need money for gas?" Jaya asked.

"We could raid the kitchen for snacks," Justin said with a mischievous grin.

Matt considered. He wasn't too well-off himself although in infinitely better straits than Tim. Still, it wasn't as though he could ask _Tim_ for money.

"If you guys wouldn't mind contributing a few bucks, that would be great."

In five minutes, he was leaving the cafeteria with nearly a hundred bucks in his pocket. There had been enough people in the room and a quick collection plate had resulted in a large number of dollar bills, some fives, even a couple of twenties. Whether they liked Tim or not (not), he was still a classmate facing turbulence at home. That mattered more than personal grievances.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby knocked on Tim's door, intent on getting in to Tim. ...but there was no answer. She had tried calling him, but no answer. Tim's car was down in the parking lot. There were no lights on in the apartment. She had checked.

She tried pounding on the door, but no one answered. Nothing was happening in there. Something was wrong, but no one was inside.

"Tim, please, open up! Please?"

No answer.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Vance sat alone in his office. He was going to be heading home soon, but he wanted some time to think. Tim's behavior in his office and the report he had received from Dr. Nielson were both very puzzling. He had sensed Tim's repressed anger. That out-of-control emotion he had noticed was out of character for Tim. Tim wasn't like that. He wasn't vindictive. Sure, he got frustrated like everyone did on occasion, but he wasn't the type to hold grudges.

If it weren't for the fact that Tim had requested the chance to tell his team about his resignation himself, Vance would have stormed down and demanded answers from Gibbs right away. As it was, he would respect Tim's request and wait until Monday. He hoped that it was a mistake that the team would clear up.

...but that anger...why was Tim so furious? What had happened?

Vance wished he knew.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Fifteen years ago..._

It was a long drive. Matt had never been in Tim's company for so long and it was incredibly awkward. Tim seemed to have no concept of how to hold a conversation...but that couldn't be exactly right because he spoke to his professors often enough, and there was no reason to think that he had some sort of disorder or disability. Eventually, Tim pulled out his homework and did his problems aloud, impressing Matt in spite of himself. Any doubts he might have had about Tim's raw intelligence were quickly dispelled by a few hours of electrodynamics and advanced mathematics.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Take the next right. Fourth house on the left," Tim said, but his voice had changed. He was eager, almost excited.

The house was slightly larger than average but not huge. Significant to it was the wheelchair ramp in the front. The entire driveway was shoveled and deiced. These were people who thought of the details and tried to plan ahead. Why make more trouble than necessary?

Tim got out of the car as it rolled to a stop. It was after midnight but there was a light on in the front room.

"Mom's still up."

"Maybe she's waiting."

"She's not. I didn't tell her I was coming."

"Why not?"

"Just in case..."

Matt furrowed his brow. "In case of what?"

Tim shrugged and grabbed his bag from the back seat. "Come on in."

Matt followed, feeling slightly intrusive. This wasn't like going to one of his friends' houses. This was like being invited into the house of a stranger. Tim came in and called out softly.

"Mom?"

A woman with gray-streaked auburn hair stood up, staring in disbelief.

"Tim. What? How...How did you get here?"

Tim dropped his bag in the hall and ran to his mother. "Matt gave me a ride," he said and hugged her tightly.

"Tim, you're too skinny."

"I know." He pulled back. "Mom, this is Matt. Matt, this is my mom. Naomi."

Matt held out his damaged hand. "Nice to meet you."

There was only a minor hesitation as she noticed the missing fingers. Her grip was strong and she shook hands firmly.

"Thank you for bringing him home," she said.

He heard a lot more in that simple statement than he had ever expected. She might have been thanking him for saving Tim's life.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Timmy! Timmy! You're home!"

The ecstatic shrieks woke Matt up earlier than he'd wanted to be. He sat up, momentarily forgetting where he was. Oh, yes. The McGee home.

"Hey, Sarah."

"When did you get here?"

"Last night. Keep your voice down. My...my ride is still asleep."

Tim was different here, even down to his voice, his tone. Speaking to his sister, he sounded younger, more relaxed...like a real person. So which one was real?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Matt, we're going to the hospital. You're welcome to join us or to stay here."

Sarah answered for him. "He wants to come and drive in his car so I can come with him!" She'd been staring at him in fascination ever since he had joined them for breakfast.

"Sarah," Naomi said.

"No, that's all right. I can come...if you don't mind, of course, Naomi."

Naomi smiled. "If you want to indulge my little hellion, feel free."

"I'm not a hellion, Mom! I'm darling!"

"In your better moments," Naomi replied, but she smiled. "Don't feel obligated, Matt."

"No, that's all right."

"Okay. Then, Tim will come with me. Sarah, mind your manners."

"I promise!"

Sarah grabbed Matt's arm and dragged him out of the house. Once they were driving, her expression became serious.

"Are you Tim's friend?"

"I'm...not sure, really."

"You must be. MIT is a long ways away...but Tim said no one liked him over there. He was sad about it because he had hoped he'd finally get friends. Mom and Dad tried to help him, but I don't think it worked."

"How old are you, Sarah?"

"Nine, almost ten...but that doesn't mean I'm dumb!"

"I didn't think it did."

"Good. Because I'm smart. I know that Mom wanted to talk to Tim...alone."

"If Tim is anything to go by, you _must_ be smart."

She shook her head. "I'm not as smart as Tim...and I'm glad."

"Why?"

"Because being really smart means everyone hates you. Ever since we've been here, that's how it is. No one likes Tim. He never has friends. I thought maybe it was just here, but it's at MIT, too. So it must be true everywhere. People who are smart don't have friends."

Ouch. He searched for something to say, but Sarah wasn't done.

"I think part of it is Tim's fault. That's what Mom and Dad said, anyway. So Tim's really smart but he's also really dumb with people...but he's always been nice to me...almost always." She grinned. "I'm annoying sometimes."

"Most sisters are."

"Why does everyone hate him?"

How to explain something like that to an almost-ten-year-old... Matt had no idea.

"Did he do something bad? ...but Tim's not bad. He never gets into trouble. Even when he got beat up...he didn't usually fight back, even though he got really mad. He broke the keyboard once, pushing the keys too hard."

Silence.

"Do you hate him?"

"No." That part was easy. Did he _like_ Tim? Jury was still out. Matt wasn't even sure he _knew_ the real Tim.

"I hope you'll be his friend."

"Why?"

"Because you're here. No one else is. There's the hospital!" She pointed. "Dad will be happy to meet you! Do you know anything about literature?"

"Not much."

"Good. Dad will focus on you then. He likes quoting things and if he has an audience who hasn't heard them before, he'll be really happy."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Visits to the hospital were a bit awkward, but less so than Matt had expected. Tim was engaging, if a bit withdrawn. He made jokes with his dad, and Sam, although still recovering, was highly entertaining and very welcoming of a total stranger. Still, it was easier at Tim's home rather than at the hospital. Sam would be released in a few days, not while Tim was there, unfortunately, but the doctors had expected some problems and had been ready to deal with them when they arose. Sunday evening, they sat down to eat and Sarah was staring Matt's hand as he ate. It was his right hand...and he was right-handed. It was very noticeable.

"Yes, Sarah?" he asked.

"What happened to your hand? It's all...weird."

"Sarah!" Naomi said. "I'm sorry, Matt."

"No, that's all right. I'm used to questions."

"Still, that was rude, Sarah."

Sarah looked down at her plate. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"It's okay." Matt put down his fork and held out his hand. "You want to look?"

Sarah lifted her head a little, hesitant. "Can I...I feel it?"

Matt laughed. "Sure. Go ahead. My hand is even clean."

Tentatively, she reached out and felt the scarred space where most people had fingers.

"What happened?"

"I was in the Army. Lost my fingers while I was out fighting. They managed to save my thumb and my pinky; so I can still use my right hand, which is a relief. I'm not very good with my left."

Sarah laughed.

"Can you feel things in your hand?" she asked, suddenly serious.

"Yes, but not in the center where my fingers are gone. When I first lost them, I felt like they were still there, but now...now, I'm pretty much used to only having two fingers. It doesn't bother me."

"Is everyone like that?" Sarah asked, her eyes drawn to the empty space at the table.

Tim opened his mouth to say something but then looked at his plate in silence, and Matt finally understood why Sarah was asking...although he couldn't imagine why she would think losing a couple of fingers was like being paralyzed.

"I don't know. I think most people are, but I don't know too many others. It's a choice people make. I chose to go on with my life as much as I could."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Please, Tim, just tonight! You won't be back for months!" Sarah begged.

"Okay, okay. You're getting too old for me to read you stories."

"No, sir! It's good to keep reading no matter what age! My teacher told me so!"

Tim smiled, and Matt was amazed at the patience and love Tim showed toward a girl who could be an _annoying_ little sister. That wasn't feigned. He was sure of that much. Sarah dragged Tim up the stairs to read her some book that she was reading in school.

"Sarah will keep him up there for half an hour or more, at least," Naomi said, smiling. "She hates that he's gone during the year...and especially this year."

"Yeah, Tim told me that he couldn't go home for Christmas."

Naomi nodded and he saw her jaw clench briefly before she smiled again.

"I don't think you could possibly understand how much it means to us...to _all_ of us that Tim could come right now. It wasn't life-threatening...well, it could have been, but we caught the infection early enough that it wasn't likely. Still, Tim's the kind of person who needs to _see_ that Sam is okay." She shook her head. "He's seen too much of the opposite. So...thank you. If you need some money for gas..."

"No. I'm fine. I promise," Matt said quickly, thinking of Tim's admission of poverty. "Naomi...I might be overstepping here. Tim might not appreciate me telling you this."

"Please, overstep. There have been precious few people who cared enough to step at all."

Matt smiled and then said it all in a rush. "Did you know that Tim is skipping meals every day to save on money?"

Naomi sat back and stared. "No. No, I didn't know that. How often?"

"From what he told me, the only meal he's eating regularly is dinner...and he usually saves something from that for breakfast. He told me that you guys are...having some financial problems this year."

"Yes...we are. We're managing, but Sam's been having a lot of health problems for the last couple of years and my job doesn't bring in as much as Sam's does." She paused. "I don't want to make our lot into some sob story. We make enough to get by. The lawsuit really put us over the edge, ate up all our savings...even though we won...as we _should_ have. It was a frivolous waste of time and money. It's just taking longer to break even again. Still, poor we might be, but not that poor. It's so like Tim to try and keep from making waves, even when his plans end up making things bad for himself. Thank you for telling me. I should have asked Tim directly. He never could lie very well."

"You know...we might be able to help Tim out a bit with meals at school."

"How?"

"I got my friends to help me out with gas money. It took about five seconds to get enough to help cover the trip. A lot of us can afford it."

"Why would you?" she asked, bluntly. "I have to confess that I never expected to see anyone from MIT here. Oh, I'm not blaming you. Tim is...awkward to put it mildly. He's had his own share of problems and he let it develop into a larger problem. We've tried to help him see where he's going wrong, but..." She smiled sadly. "...but from what he's told us so far, he'd given up on ever making any friends. In fact, the last time Sam talked to him, he had decided that he wasn't going to ever do anything with anyone again. It sounds childish...and it is, but Tim is the kind of person who would go that far...and stay there. His wounds don't heal easily. So...tell me, why you? Why now?"

"I don't know. It's the right thing to do. I'll be honest...I didn't like him last year...not at all. I'm still not sure whether I do or not. ...but no one should be sitting up at three in the morning crying and doing homework."

"He's taking too many classes, I know. School is the one place that Sam and I have never been able to make suggestions. Tim loves to learn. School itself, not so much, but learning is everything to him. If it wasn't for that, I think he'd give up. I don't know if he can last another year alone. I'm not telling you this to make you feel like you have to be his friend. A forced friendship is worse than none at all...but maybe you can help him see what we can't. I don't know exactly what he does and says at school...but it has to be different from how he is here because here...if you'll forgive a mother's bias, he's the sweetest boy I know."

"He's not like that at school."

"I figured as much. Regardless of whether or not you two do become friends, we will forever be in your debt for the sacrifice you made in bringing Tim home. Tim might not thank you, but he'll be grateful...moreso because he knows no one likes him, and one of those people still tried to help. That's against his experience."

There was a thumping down the stairs and Naomi turned away from Matt as if the conversation had never happened.

"Is she asleep?"

"No, of course not," Tim said. "She's under the covers with a flashlight, reading the rest of _A Wrinkle in Time_. She probably won't sleep until it's finished."

"No school tomorrow; so that's okay for tonight. Now, Tim, come with me. We need to have a chat. Good night, Matt. It's been a pleasure to have you here."

"Thanks for having me."

Matt watched as Naomi put an arm around Tim's shoulders and directed him out of the living room. It had been an eye-opening experience, being here, seeing Tim with people he loved...and talking with those people. If only Tim could act like this at school. Why didn't he? What made him think that he had to be superior to everyone else? It wasn't his family from what Matt could see. ...but it was sad to think that Tim had changed himself so drastically...and was, in effect, shooting himself in the foot. It might just be worth a try to see if he could find out if Tim really was a friend.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You told my mom about..."

"Yeah, I did," Matt said, grateful that Tim had finally broken the silence. They'd been driving for two hours.

"Why?"

"Because what you're doing is noble...but kind of dumb, Tim."

"Well, no one _asked_ you!" Tim said, instantly bristling. "I didn't ask for your help! I don't _need_ help from _you_."

"You know what, Tim? _That_ is why you don't have any friends."

"What?"

"That...you acting like you're better than we are, like you're God's gift to mankind. _That_ is why no one likes you!" Matt said. "No one likes being put down...and that's all you've ever done, although after seeing you with your family, I can't even fathom why you'd think it would work! You don't do that to your family!"

Deafening silence. Matt chanced a sideways glance and saw Tim's expression. Utter shame. He seemed to have no gradient of emotions. It was either absolute arrogance or absolute humiliation...except at home.

"Tim...why do you act like that?"

Tim's head dropped. "Because being worse than everyone didn't help either," he mumbled.

"Being worse? What are you talking about? No one treated you that way."

"Not at MIT."

A light bulb, and Matt kicked himself for being so obtuse. "Tim...were you bullied in school?"

The laugh that answered him was less of a laugh and more of a hacking caw. "I'm two years younger than everyone. I'm smarter than they are. What do _you _think?"

"...but no one's done that at MIT."

"No. They haven't. It's worse. I thought being pushed around every day was bad. Being ignored is ten times worse. I don't even exist at MIT...and I tried so hard to. At least the bullies thought I was important enough to put down. ...because they _knew_ I was better. They knew that and the only way to stop me from _being_ better was to shove me into the lockers, to dump my books in the toilet...humiliate me in gym class. They couldn't be better just by being themselves. I was better and they couldn't handle that." Tim's voice was bitter and angry. Clearly, two years wasn't even near enough to heal these particular wounds. Matt remembered Naomi's words...and he saw how right she was. Tim hadn't forgiven the bullies at all. He hadn't even just put aside what happened. He had let it poison him.

"You don't have to be better you know."

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. Do you think that the reason Justin, Jaya, David and all the rest of us are friends is because we're all the best? It's not true. That's not what being friends is about. You've got to know that, Tim. What about friends in school?"

"I didn't have any."

"None?"

Tim shook his head. "Not for a long time. I'm the number one punching bag. It's dangerous to associate oneself with a target. I had friends once...but even when I was younger, there were bullies. I was a magnet to them. I liked my teachers...but the...the kids my age, younger or older...I hated them."

"And you still do, apparently."

"They deserve it! They shoved me around and no one tried to help! No one helps...not unless you're on top. The people who pushed me around...they were popular. Everyone liked them...except me. I hate them. Every one of them."

"And it's really hurting them, isn't it," Matt said sarcastically. "I'll bet they can feel that hatred and it kills them to know that Tim McGee hates them."

Tim glared at him and Matt smiled.

"Tim, can't you see that it only hurts you? Unless you actually set out to do something about it, hatred only hurts the person who feels it. You think I didn't hate the guy who made me lose my fingers?"

"How did he?"

"He stepped on a land mine. He died. Guy next to him lost his leg. I was a few steps behind and caught the shrapnel in my hand. I was lucky not to have a stump ending at the wrist. I was mad at him...because we had been warned about land mines in the area and he wasn't watching. ...but what did it hurt him to have me hate him? It didn't. He was dead and gone. All my hatred was doing was making things worse for myself because I felt guilty, too."

"About what?"

"About surviving when he died. ...but you know what? It's not my fault he died. It's not my fault I lived. ...and while you can blame the jerks in high school for ruining your life, it's up to you to choose how much they're going to affect you, how long you're going to hold onto it, because you can bet that they're not going to remember you in ten years. Maybe not even in five. But _you_ are remembering _them_. You're letting them win long after the stupid high school game is over. Why bother?"

Another long silence. This one stretched out for fifteen minutes.

"It doesn't matter anyway."

"What doesn't matter?"

"Whether or not they win. Everyone's the same."

"No, they're not. ...but if you treat us all how you got treated in high school, you're going to have the same result."

"But _why_?" Tim asked, plaintively. "Why is it that _they_ were all liked but I'm still a loser everywhere?"

Matt saw a rest area coming up and signaled to take the ramp off the interstate. He didn't answer until the car was in a parking spot.

"Tim, why would you think that making someone feel like you felt was a good idea?"

"I...I don't know what else to do."

"Yeah, you do. Your family still likes you and you're smarter than they are."

"Families are different. They're always there, no matter what."

"Real friends are, too. The real friends don't care if you're smart or dumb, if you're older than everyone or younger. They care about who you are. If they like that person, then they stick around. If not, they don't."

"No one has ever liked me, though."

"Did you ever give them a chance to? You never gave _us_ the chance to see who you were. You just told us what you knew. How can we decide if we don't get to see you?"

Tim looked out the window.

"Do you know how I got the money for gas on this trip?"

"No."

"From my friends. I asked them if they'd be willing to loan me some money. Nearly everyone chipped in."

"Why?"

"To help. That's what friends do." Matt sighed. "Look, Tim, there's a group of us who get together to study electrodynamics every week...to keep all that stuff Jorgenson tells us straight. You could come. We could always use another brain."

"Yeah, I'm _really _sure you want me there," Tim said with heavy sarcasm.

"Actually, I'm _not_ sure, but it's a chance I'm willing to take. Are you?"

"No."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The return to MIT didn't bring any great changes. Tim went back to his loner ways although he said nothing to anyone about what had happened. A couple of people, Matt included, began saying hi to Tim when they'd pass him while he was studying in the library. Tim rarely responded, but they persisted. Every so often, Matt would renew his invitation to Tim to join the study groups. Tim always refused.

They all joined together and helped Tim out with money for food...unobtrusively, mostly through Matt. Tim accepted it, but reluctantly and seemed embarrassed by the help.

Midterms came and went. Weeks passed and the weather slowly improved. Tim still resisted and the others persisted. By the time April rolled around, Tim had begun saying hi in return. That was all, but it was enough. Matt redoubled his efforts to get Tim to talk to others, to join in the study groups.

Finally, the last week of classes approached. Finals would be beginning in earnest soon.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay, so, electrodynamics is first," Justin said. "At least we can get it out of the way."

"That's the only good thing to say about it," Matt groaned.

There was a knock on the lab door.

"Come on in! Join the misery!" David called out.

The door opened slowly and Tim stepped inside. Everyone looked at him in surprise. Tim looked frankly terrified by the attention.

"Hey, Tim. Come on in. We're commiserating about final schedules. Jorgenson is first."

"You're...studying?" he asked, his voice low, hesitant.

"Well, we haven't started just yet. We have to moan and groan first."

"The tests will happen anyway...why not just study?" he asked, a hint of his former derision.

"Because study groups are more fun if you're not always studying."

"But...they're _study_ groups," Tim said.

Justin laughed. "Misnomers."

"You want to join us or not?" Jaya asked, only slightly irritated.

Tim stepped back and then caught Matt's eye.

"Yes...okay."

He said almost nothing else during the study group, except for those things that directly related to electrodynamics, but everything he said was right. He had apparently already studied...but no one suggested that he leave.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Finals came and went. Tim joined with a few of the other study groups. He said little and absolutely nothing about himself, only about whatever the subject was. ...but he listened and he didn't try to laud himself over everyone else. During the finals he was the first finished with the tests and sat outside while everyone else finished. It was a simple gesture, but he waved at the others as they came out...and waited until every single person in the class had finished. He did that at every test, not saying anything, just waiting.

Matt walked over to him after the last final of the year.

"Hey, we're going out to celebrate, Tim. Come on."

"I'm too young to drink, Matt," Tim said, shaking his head.

"I know. That's why we're not going to a bar. We're going to get dinner."

Tim still shook his head.

"Why not?"

"We're done studying."

"Yeah, that means we get to celebrate!"

Tim looked at him. "You don't want me to come, really."

"Yeah, we do."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"I help you study. You're not studying anymore."

"You think that's the only reason we want you around?"

"Isn't it?"

"No!"

"Then, why?"

Matt wasn't sure how to answer the question. It had been pity at first, to be honest. ...but now, he was a part of the group and Tim would no more be excluded than Justin would.

"Because you're part of the group. That's how it works."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. We'll even split the cost; so you don't have to worry about that."

Tim flushed.

"No need to be embarrassed, Tim. That's how things go sometimes. You coming?"

"Uh...sure."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They crowded into a local restaurant and began talking about things _other_ than school. Tim said nothing until they started going around the table talking about what they were going to do over the summer.

"Tim, what about you?"

Tim looked around at them, surprised to be included. Matt smiled.

"Tim? What are you doing during the summer?"

"I..." Tim swallowed. "I got a job."

"Doing what?"

"Cleaning...asbestos."

"Yikes. That's no fun."

Tim smiled. "No...but it pays pretty good...cause it sucks."

"Man, you must really want to come back here."

"Yeah."

"_Will _you be back?"

"I think so. I _hope_ so." Matt watched as Tim chanced a smile. "...but I'm not rooming with Manny."

Everyone laughed.

"_No_ one wants to room with Manny," Justin said, grinning. "But he's finally graduating this year; so everyone will be safe."

"When are you going?"

"Next week. I have to meet with all my professors and set up what I'm doing next year. At least I'll be an adult finally."

Another laugh. Tim's smile was less timid. He even laughed a little himself.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"See you next year, Tim."

"Yeah."

"If you have problems...you can always ask for help."

"Can I?"

"Sure...it's what friends do."

Tim smiled and then turned around and faced the road.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. ...I told Mom... I'd be happy with one friend."

"Well, offer's open if you're interested."

"Thanks...Matt."

"You're welcome. See you next year!"

"Bye."

Matt watched Tim get on the bus and then headed back to campus to gather his own things. Tim wouldn't be an easy friend to have, probably...but he figured he'd be a friend worth having.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Present..._

"He is not answering his phone, Tony. Do you think we should check on him?"

"_Come on, Ziva!"_

"That is not an answer, Tony," Ziva said. "You saw him today. What he said to Gibbs."

"_Who hasn't thought that before, though?"_

"Yes, but McGee? Saying it aloud _to_ Gibbs? That is not normal. That is not McGee."

"_Okay...so...maybe he's more like Thomas than he should be."_

"That is not a good thing."

"_Could be worse."_

"How?"

"_He could be...more like me."_

Ziva laughed. "But Tony..."

"_Hey, don't worry. I know Abby was going over there tonight. She'll take care of him."_

Ziva hung up, but she didn't feel any better. However, Abby was infinitely more qualified than she to talk to Tim.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim heard Abby at his door.

He had no intention of answering.

Abby was the one person he couldn't bear to see.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Tim didn't sleep on Friday night. He didn't sleep on Saturday night either. He spent Sunday morning packing to go to Matt's house and finally called the kennel where Jethro had been staying most of the time. Abby had taken him out as much as she could, but since her apartment didn't allow pets, Jethro needed a place to stay. Being on a large estate would be great for Jethro. He'd have more room than he'd know what to do with. After packing, he sat around waiting for the time when he could leave the oppressive feeling in his apartment. While he did so, he tinkered with his phone...and disabled the GPS chip in it so that he couldn't be tracked. He was pretty certain they'd try once they found out he'd quit. They wouldn't care until then. They wouldn't really care _after_ either, but they'd feel like they had to do something. That was worse.

Then, Tim smiled. Why make it easy for them to try and assuage their deserved guilt? He picked up his phone again and removed the SIM card, replacing it with a prepay SIM card that had different information. He didn't actually remember _when_ he'd purchased that card, but he was glad he remembered that he had it. He knew it wouldn't be perfect. If they got Abby on it, she'd be able to tell that he'd manipulated his phone information, but that's why he'd turned off the GPS chip. Then, he could turn off his phone and be, effectively, invisible...as far as people tracking his phone would be concerned. Abby knew Matt, but Tim hadn't really mentioned him to anyone else. Would Abby think of him? Probably not.

He would be free of them all. He could cut off all ties with the people he hated. Just like high school...never see them again. He would add them to his list of people not worth knowing, not worth giving the time of day. He hated them and that was it. He wouldn't try and deal with them anymore.

...and he wouldn't have to face the reality of knowing what he'd given up to do his job...and perhaps impress them. Since he'd failed, he wouldn't think about it anymore. No more failures.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Leon, the phone's for you," Jackie said. "They'd better not want you in this morning. You promised!"

"Let me find out what it is before you get mad, Jackie," Vance said and took the phone. He didn't want to go in to NCIS himself. It was Sunday morning and he was enjoying the time with his family.

Jackie shook her finger at him and then went back into the kitchen.

"Vance."

"_I'm sorry to bother you, Director. ...I've been transcribing the recordings from the operation. There are some...I think you should hear."_

"Is it urgent?"

"_No, sir. I just didn't want to file a request. I don't know exactly what I should do with it."_

Curious, Vance sat down. "Can you play it for me now?"

"_Yes, sir."_

"Then, do that."

Vance listened...and then felt some confusion and a rising anger. "When was this?"

"_Five months ago, Director Vance. It was from very early in the morning, about three a.m."_

No reason they should have heard it, then...but _every_ reason they should have known. He hadn't read Tim's report yet. He could go in this evening and do that. As much as he wanted to have an entire day to himself, this was his job, and he was beginning to wonder just how much had been covered up in this assignment.

"Thank you. Keep on with the transcription. Flag that, make a copy of it and send it to my office. I'll deal with it tomorrow."

"_Yes, Director. Thank you."_

"Thank you." Vance hung up and considered. He'd have to get to the bottom of this before tomorrow. That meant tonight...but not now.

"Leon?"

"I have to go in...but not until tonight, Jackie," Vance said, standing up. "Now, I believe that I was going to amaze you all with my grilling prowess this evening."

Jackie looked stern.

"Not until tonight."

"That will have to do, I guess."

Vance stood up and put his arms around her. She tried to stay stiff.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" he asked, kissing her.

Jackie smiled and kissed him back. "Not enough."

"EW! Get a room!"

Vance looked over Jackie's shoulder.

"I have a lot of rooms...and you have one, Jared. Do you need go to it?"

"Nope!" he said quickly. "I'll just go outside, then."

"You do that," Vance said, and kissed Jackie again.

"Yuck." But it was whispered very softly.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Finally, it was time to go. Tim grabbed his bags, looked out the window and checked to make sure that no one was there...particularly that _Abby_ wasn't there. No sign of her car. Thank goodness. He was so glad to get away from his apartment.

He crept out into the hallway and headed down the stairs. As he walked across to his car, he kept looking around expecting...who, exactly? He wasn't sure, but he knew he didn't want to be seen by _anyone_.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

After her morning run, Ziva couldn't be easy in her mind. Something told her that they had been a bit lax in dealing with Tim after the operation ended. Why was that? After all, she and Tony knew a lot more about undercover work than Tim did. They knew how hard it could be to let go.

Perhaps she could go and speak to Tim today. Maybe away from NCIS, after a day away from all of them, Tim would be easier to speak to. Maybe she could find out what had happened, what he was thinking. She thought about calling Tony, but the memory of Tim's reaction to anything Tony said made her dismiss it out of hand. No. This first foray would be better taken alone.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

As Tim drove away from DC, away from Silver Spring, from all those places that were a part of the life he could no longer claim, he found his tension easing. Freedom. Jethro seemed a bit morose and kept whining a little at him. Tim tried to ignore it, but it bothered him.

"Shut up, Jethro. Soon you'll have acres to range over. Stop complaining," he muttered.

A pitiful whine and Jethro slipped to the floor, resting his chin forlornly on the seat and staring up at Tim with his big liquid eyes.

"Don't even try it. You'll like it at Matt's place."

Another whine.

"Look...if you keep this up, I'll stop this car and let you try and find your way to Abby's place. She always liked you best anyway."

Jethro whuffled at him but made no other noises as they drove north toward Goshen, Maryland. It was a totally different area from Silver Spring. Sprawling properties, huge houses...and quiet. Tim tried to quell the jealousy that arose. It wasn't Matt's fault that Tim's life had been utterly ruined. It wasn't his fault that Tim didn't have the same life.

_He'll lord it over you. You should give him up, too. Give up on them all._

But no. Tim ignored the continual press of that little voice in his head. He wouldn't give up having Matt as a friend. He'd always _been_ a friend.

_Always?_

Okay. No, not always, but since they had gotten to know each other.

_What did it take? You had to give up knowing you were better._

No. That wasn't it.

_He made you suppress how good you were, just to be accepted. People do that to you all the time! Why do you take it? Wuss._

But no. As insidious as that little voice was, Tim refused to listen to the denigration of his only real friend. He had _thought_ Tony and Ziva were real friends, but he was wrong. Besides, if nothing else, he was getting to stay in an amazing house for a few months because of his friendship with Matt.

As he turned onto the road leading to Matt's home, he found that he was eager to get there, eager to finally be free. Even this car was something that bespoke a different life. A life that was no longer his own. He would be happy to let it all go.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"No need to go up and knock. He's not there. I already checked," Tony said. He was sitting on the steps leading into Tim's apartment.

"His car is gone," Ziva said, covering her surprise at seeing Tony there.

"Yeah, and so are a lot of his clothes. Maybe he went to a hotel?"

"I doubt that McGee would pay for a hotel. Perhaps he went to Ohio. Should we call his parents?"

"And let them know that we've lost their son? I don't think so," Tony said quickly. "I called the kennel. He picked up Jethro an hour or so ago. We didn't miss him by much...but I have no idea where to start looking."

Ziva thought about a BOLO, but immediately dismissed the idea. If Tim were angry at them for whatever reason, she didn't think that having the police looking for him would help matters. She sat down beside Tony and they both were quiet for a while, lost in their own thoughts.

"What do we do?"

"Wait for Monday, I guess. He'll have to come back," Tony said. "I'll stand behind you so he can't hit me again and we'll try and talk to him."

Ziva smiled. "Yes, I will protect you from the big scary McGee."

Tony laughed...and then sobered. "You know? I kind of miss the wussy McGee. I wish we had him back."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Tim knocked on the door and waited. The house wasn't _quite_ as big as it looked. Matt had decided that he wanted it to loom without really being a cavern on the inside. He sometimes entertained as part of his job, but mostly, the house was empty...even in spite of his and Judith's attempts to change that.

As it opened, Tim tensed involuntarily.

"Tim! Hey! ...wow, you look _awful_."

Tim smiled and suddenly felt _really_ tired. "Yeah, I know. I look worse than I feel. I promise."

"You look like you did in college...and that's not a good thing."

"You always know how to make a guy feel good about himself. It's left over from my last assignment."

Matt looked around. "Didn't you bring Jethro?"

Tim blinked and looked down and then back over his shoulder where Jethro was still sitting in the car.

"Oh...yeah..." Tim suddenly realized that he had no memory of walking from the car to the front door.

"...and I'm assuming you brought something to wear on subsequent days?"

Tim's empty hands made him flush.

"Are you okay, Tim?"

"I'm fine!"

"Yeah, you always say that when you're obviously _not_ fine."

"Physically, I'm fine. Mentally..." Tim sighed. "I'm all over the place, Matt. I'm sorry."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that you'll probably be glad that you won't be around. I'm probably a hard friend to have right now."

Matt smiled and clapped a hearty arm around Tim's shoulders, leading him back to his car.

"That doesn't mean you're not worth having as a friend. I've told you _that_ before."

"Yeah. You have." Tim headed over to the car. "Hey, Jethro, you ready to get out?"

Jethro whined.

"Stupid dog," Tim said with more bitterness than he had intended. He felt Matt's arm tense in surprise but he didn't say anything.

"Bags in the trunk?"

"Yeah. Get out here, Jethro!" Tim said, carefully curbing his anger. Jethro got out, tail between his legs and ears down. Tim watched him dispassionately.

"Oh, make him feel better, Tim! It won't hurt you!" Matt ordered as he grabbed Tim's bags.

Tim relented and knelt down. "Oh, Jethro. Come on, don't act like that! You know I like you!"

Jethro padded over to his master, obviously hesitant. He tentatively licked at Tim's face.

"It's all right," Tim said.

Jethro whuffled against Tim's face and then barked, tail and ears both coming up.

"There now. That wasn't very difficult, was it?" Matt asked.

_Don't take that from him!_

"No. It wasn't," Tim said. "He was acting stupid, though. Here, you don't have to be my bellboy. I can carry them myself."

"And I can help you. If you want to tip me, that's _your_ business." Matt grinned and kept walking.

Tim followed behind, unsure if he was angry or amused. Jethro trotted along behind.

"Judith!" Matt called out. "Our guest is here!"

Tim jumped and took a step to the side as Judith came running down the stairs.

"Tim!" She didn't notice his backward movement. "Oh, you look just terrible! I swear you must be ready to collapse." She turned to Matt. "Take his stuff up to his room, Matt."

"Yes, ma'am," Matt said, acting servile. He started up the stairs.

"Tim, I hereby _order_ you to eat at least five helpings at dinner."

Tim struggled to smile, even as being around Judith put him on his guard...but he didn't know why.

"I don't think I _could_, Judith. It's been a while since I ate that much. I'd probably get sick."

Judith smiled and patted his cheek gently. "Then, you can eat as much as you can stand and start building up a tolerance for food." She leaned closer to him...and sniffed. "Tim...how long has it been since you changed? Your clothes don't seem...freshly laundered."

Tim looked down at himself. He was still wearing Thomas' clothes. From five days ago.

_I showered, didn't I? I must have...but if I did, why did I put these clothes back on? I don't even like them!_

"Gosh, I stink! I'm sorry!" Tim felt horribly embarrassed. "I don't..."

Matt put a hand on his shoulder from behind and Tim jumped, even though he knew it could only _be_ Matt.

"Hey, Tim. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm...sorry," Tim said, unconsciously backing away from the two of them.

"No worries. Why don't you go on up and shower and change?" Matt suggested. "Actually, you could also take a short nap. Dinner isn't quite ready yet; so you can catch up on the sleep you're obviously lacking."

"I don't want to..."

Matt shook his head. "Think of this as your home away from home, Tim. Come on. I'll take you up and you can see your luxurious bedroom. It even has an en suite bathroom."

"You're just showing off."

"Of course, I am! ...but, Tim... You do look like you need it."

"Well...I definitely need the shower."

"It's okay to need help."

"I know."

Tim followed Matt up the stairs to a very nice room. It wasn't ostentatious, just large, comfortable...with the aforementioned bathroom. Tim looked around.

"I think this might be larger than my entire apartment."

"Probably. You live in a closet."

Tim walked over and opened the closet doors. "Well, if it's like this one, then yes."

"Are your parents glad you're back?"

"I haven't talked to them. They probably are."

"You haven't talked to them?"

"I called and left a message."

"When?"

"Um...Thursday, I think."

"And Sarah?"

"No. Not yet."

"Why not?"

"None of your business!" Tim snapped and closed the doors.

"Tim."

Tim sighed. He had known this would be coming.

_Don't let him make you feel bad! You made a choice! It's your life! Not his!_

"What?" Even to his own ears, that single word sounded unnecessarily angry.

"What happened? I mean, I know you can't tell me any details, and I'm not asking for that, but what happened?"

"I quit."

"NCIS?"

"No, I have another job I've been working," Tim replied scathingly.

"Why did you quit?"

"It was time. ...long past time."

"What about your friends? What did they have to say about that?"

"They're not friends," Tim said, with an irritated laugh. "Certainly not coworkers, not anymore."

"You've said that kind of thing before."

"You know what, Matt? If you're going to try and defend them, don't bother! You weren't there. You don't know. Just leave it alone!" Tim said.

_Exactly! Let him have it! He's on their side!_

Matt just looked at him without speaking. Tim pushed away the niggling thread of fury, walked over to the bed and sat down, running his hands through his spiky hair.

"I'm sorry. I told you that I'm not a good friend to have right now."

"You did say that...but that still doesn't mean you're a friend not worth having."

Tim leaned forward. "I did some things...undercover...some things I wish I hadn't done. I'm not even sure if I _should _have. They made sense at the time."

"You're a pretty smart guy, Tim. You're also well-trained. Don't second-guess yourself...particularly when you can't do anything about it. Shower, get some sleep, and we can talk more later. We could even put off–"

"No!" Tim said, sitting up. "No, you're not going to change your vacation plans because I'm having some problems. It's probably the first vacation you two have gone on since your honeymoon."

"There is that." Matt smiled. "Okay, but seriously...we don't have to leave for hours yet...and we're your friends. You can tell us whatever you need to get out of your system."

"I'm...going to go shower." Tim opened his bag, grabbed whatever came to hand and went into the bathroom.

It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done...taking off Thomas' clothes.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"He still asleep?" Judith asked when Matt came into the kitchen two hours later.

"No sounds from above. I assume so."

"He'll have to get up soon. Dinner's almost ready. What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know, Judith...but don't push him too much for answers right now."

"Why not?"

"I've seen him like this before...before you came back from England. When you met Tim, he'd more or less worked through a lot of his problems. Whatever happened over the last few months...it's brought all the crap he was feeling back then up again. I don't know...maybe this is normal for undercover work. _I_ don't have any experience with all that...but something happened. ...and when he gets like this, you can't force him to do anything. You just have to be persistent in not going away."

"Isn't that what we're doing?"

"Not exactly. If we decided to stay, Tim would know it's because of him and he'd be resentful and feel guilty. Don't ask me how he manages both at once. He's gifted that way."

Judith smiled. "What _are_ we going to do, then?"

"Play it by ear, mostly. ...but let's see if we can get him to agree to call his folks. If we can, that will at least be someone else who's in contact with him. He quit NCIS...on bad terms from what he said."

Judith's eyes widened in surprise. "Wow. What if he doesn't agree?"

"Then...we'll call them ourselves on our way out of town and let them know where he is."

"Okay." Judith went back to stirring the soup she was making. "Matt...why don't we push our departure time back a bit? The pilots can file a new flight plan, right?"

"They'd grumble, but yeah."

"Let's do that. See if we can get Tim to talk to us at all. If nothing else, it will take time to catch up since he's been gone for so long."

"Why don't you call them and I'll go get Sleeping Beauty up."

Judith chuckled. "Coward. You don't want to tell the pilots about the change in schedule."

"That's right, my dear. Your idea? You get the agony." Matt kissed her on the cheek and headed upstairs, hiding his other reason for being the one to wake Tim up. As jumpy as Tim had been, Matt was worried about what he might do if startled.

As he climbed the stairs he thought he heard something...a voice, maybe, coming from Tim's room.

"No...no...it wasn't me..."

"Tim?"

Matt sprinted up the last few stairs and into Tim's bedroom. The sheets and blankets were twisted every which way and Tim was tossing and turning on the bed, a sheen of sweat on his face.

"It's not me!" he said, his voice increasing in volume.

"Tim, wake up!" Matt shook Tim firmly, trying to get him out of whatever nightmare he'd had.

Tim's eyes opened but they obviously weren't seeing anything beyond whatever horror still had his mind entangled. He didn't speak but stared at Matt in terror and began struggling against his restraining hands.

"Tim! Tim! Snap out of it, man!"

With a mighty heave, Tim flung Matt's arms away and sat up in the bed, almost whimpering. Then, slowly, breathing heavily, he looked at Matt and seemed to see him. He closed his eyes and bent over, wrapping his arms around his waist, breathing in and out through his mouth.

"Is that why you're not sleeping?" Matt asked softly.

Tim nodded.

"It happens a lot?"

Another nod.

"You want to talk about it?"

Shake.

"Tim, I think you should."

"No." Tim swallowed. "Please, Matt...let me have a little bit of time where...where that..._isn't_ what I'm thinking about. Please."

Matt reached out but Tim flinched away from the motion.

"All right, Tim. Dinner's ready. You need a few minutes?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll go help Judith set the table. Just come down when you're ready."

"Thanks."

Matt left him there, reluctantly. Tim was in a bad way, but maybe some normalcy would help. He didn't know for sure, but he could hope.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

When Tim came down, there was no sign of his recent panic except for, perhaps, some added eye movement. Other than that, he smiled at Judith, ate the bowl of soup she set down for him, even ate the bread she made him take. They chatted lightly, although all of them could sense the elephant in the room, even if two of the occupants didn't know exactly what it was.

"So...Tim, did you hear about David and Jaya?"

"What about them?"

"They're getting married!"

Tim did a double-take. "What?"

"Yeah. I'm sure they sent you an invitation. Have you got your mail lately?"

"No. I...I guess I didn't think about doing that."

"Well, when you get a moment, do. I'm positive that they'll want all of the old crowd around. David even asked where you had disappeared to when he called last month. They ran into each other at a conference in Seattle last year and decided it was fate or something."

"Meant to be?" Tim asked, sounding slightly cynical.

"I guess so. They're tying the proverbial knot in September. I told him he'd better wait until Judith and I got back because there's no way I'd believe that Jaya would take him if I wasn't there to see it myself."

Tim laughed...and then, inexplicably, his jaw tightened. Just for a moment.

After dinner, Tim insisted on helping clean up. Judith protested but then caved and allowed him. Then, they took him on the grand tour, explaining about the people who would come in and clean (unless he called and told them not to), the people who took care of the stables and horses, the people who did the lawns, the people who brought in the groceries once a week (unless Tim wanted to go shopping himself).

"Man, do you guys do _anything_ on your own?"

"As little as possible," Judith said, "but I do the cooking. Matt's a miserable failure at it, and I enjoy it...even if it _does_ make my friends call me a pitiful little housewife."

"They've never seen you on the warpath," Matt said. "They'd never think that if they had."

Judith grinned and swatted Matt on the arm.

"Can I ask a...more serious question?" Tim asked.

"Shoot."

"Any progress on adoption?"

Judith sighed. "Some. You'd think that a well-established couple with acres of space, a steady job and a wife willing to stay at home would be ideal. For some reason we keep choosing badly. We're thinking of going international. We have a few applications in now. We'll see if anything pans out. If someone calls while we're on vacation and makes an offer, we might be back before you're ready."

"I hope you get what you want. You guys deserve it," Tim said, sincerely, sounding like his old self.

"Thanks, Tim," Matt said. "Okay. Last things, all our contact info is on the fridge...and in the computer in the den...and you can ask our neighbors."

"Do you expect me to burn down the house?" Tim asked, smiling still.

"No. We're just paranoid. I showed you the security system. Just turn it on at night. Remember that you've done it. I can't tell you how many times I forgot when we first got it installed."

"I think we had the police out here five times in the first month," Judith said.

"I'll remember."

"I know that Jethro's well-trained; so don't worry about making him sleep outside. In or out, doesn't matter...but do try to keep him off the nice furniture," Matt said.

"Oh! We forgot the swimming pool stuff!" Judith said.

"I know how to use a swimming pool."

"No, this is about cleaning it," Matt corrected. "We have this bottom feeder machine thingy that sucks up leaves and grass...dog hair...and the frogs that always get in the pool and drown overnight."

"Frogs?"

"Yeah. They come from the wilderness area just off our property," Matt said, pointing to the north. "You'd think they'd start to realize that the chlorine is bad for them, but no. So here it is. You just have to put it in the pool at night and turn it on. Then, empty it in the morning. No big deal...just needs to be done."

Tim nodded and looked around. "You guys really do have a beautiful spot."

"Yeah. I think we lucked out with our place."

"Tim?"

Tim sighed. "Back to it?"

"Yeah. You should talk to your parents."

"You're not my guardian angel, Matt," Tim said, sounding annoyed.

"No. I'm your friend, and I know your parents. ...and I know Sarah. She called us about five times while you were gone, wanting reassurance that you'd be back. She doesn't deserve to have to keep worrying. Your parents, I'm sure, want to talk to you. Why are you avoiding it?"

"I'm _not_ avoiding _anything_," Tim said, spinning around, now angry. "I'm doing things in _my_ way!"

"Tim McGee loves his family more than anything," Matt said. "He wouldn't keep them waiting. That's _not_ his way."

For a few seconds, Matt was actually afraid of Tim and he took one step so that he was in front of Judith. Tim wasn't the scrawny teenager anymore. He was thin but he was tall...and well-built. Then, Tim's head dropped into his hands.

"What if I'm not?"

"Not what?"

"Not Tim anymore. What if that's not who I am?"

The danger passed, and Matt approached Tim. "Is that what you want?"

"I...I don't know. I don't know what I want anymore. I just want to be left alone."

"Tim..." Judith began...but the moment of confession passed.

"You two had better not miss your flight," Tim said, lifting his head and, a fake smile pasted on it. "Even if you can hire your own plane, you still shouldn't miss it."

"Call your parents, Tim," Matt said.

"Or you will, right?"

"You know me well enough."

Tim nodded. "I know."

"Then, call them."

Tim took a deep breath and looked out on the open landscape. "Maybe you'd better call them, anyway. Just in case."

"In case of what?"

"In case I forget." Then, he smiled. "No hugs good-bye, okay? I...I don't like that right now."

"Okay," Matt said. "How about a nice manly handshake?"

Tim laughed and shook his hand. "Is it still manly if I shake Judith's hand, too?"

"On your side, definitely."

Judith extended both her hands and covered Tim's hand with her own.

"You have _any _problems, you _call_ us. I don't care if we're in the middle of the Mediterranean. You're our friend and the closest thing _I_ have to a brother anymore. So don't leave us out."

Tim didn't answer. He just pulled his hand away.

"You need a ride?"

"We've got a limo coming," Matt said.

"Of course you do."

They went back inside and Tim helped cart everything down to the entryway. They kept chatting until the limo came a few minutes later. It was hard to go, but Tim kept it together and even waved to them as they left.

"Will he be all right?"

"Eventually. I hope. He's not right now," Matt said. "Just hold on for a minute while I call his parents."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim went back inside after the limo left. He knew that Matt would call his parents. Right now...he was so tired. So very tired. He called for Jethro who came running in from near the stables, fed him, and then went upstairs and fell onto the nice soft bed.

For once, he fell asleep quickly.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

_Monday morning..._

Tim woke up with a start, not knowing where he was for a full minute after opening his eyes. After he remembered that he was at Matt's house, he slunk back under the blankets, shutting out the world, hiding from everything that he wasn't going to think about.

In desperation, he tried to think about something else. Anything else. Then, he smiled. They should be seeing his parting gift soon. He wished that he could be there to see their faces, but that would defeat the purpose.

Instead, he relaxed and threw off the covers, laughing softly. They were in for a shock.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ziva was cursing loudly in Hebrew as Tony came in.

"What's up?"

"Nothing is _up_!" Ziva said, fuming. "My computer will not let me log in!"

"Did you have a wild night and forget your password?" Tony asked, grinning.

"No. I did not. It is the same password I have been using. I did not change it over the weekend! It will not work!"

"Sucks to be you," Tony said and sat down at his computer. He typed in his username and password.

The rejection glowed redly on the screen.

_Invalid username/password combination_

"Hey!"

"You cannot logon either?" Ziva asked.

"I must have slipped while I was typing." He carefully put in each letter and number and then clicked the button.

_Invalid username/password combination_

"No! I know that's right!"

"Where is McGee? He will know how to fix it."

"We could call IT," Tony said, unsuccessfully trying to hide his reluctance to confront a possibly still-angry Tim.

"I do not want to _wait_ for IT," Ziva said. "But I have not seen McGee yet this morning. His bag is not here and he has not come in."

"We could ask Abby."

"Ask Abby what?" Gibbs asked, walking off the elevator, coffee in hand.

"Hey, Boss. Have you tried to log in yet today?" Tony asked. "There's something screwy going on with Ziva's computer. Mine, too."

Gibbs sighed and walked over. He may not like the things but he did use them, and Tony knew he wouldn't forget his password.

"Invalid username/password combination," Gibbs read off his screen. "What does that mean?"

"It means the same thing it means on _my_ computer...and _Tony's_ computer," Ziva said, still frustrated. "It means that we cannot get to our work because the computer thinks that the username and password is wrong!"

"Do you think IT changed them as a joke?" Tony asked.

"It is not April Fool's Day, Tony. If they did, I will personally kill them all, one by one."

"Where's McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Not in yet, Boss."

"Get Abby up here to see if she can fix it," Gibbs said.

Tony nodded and called to talk to Abby, explaining what was going on. Abby begged off, saying that she was just in the middle of running some samples for Lovitz but if Tony called and schmoozed Elaine who was currently on duty, they'd probably get quick service. Tony did as suggested and Elaine, the IT tech was upstairs in under five minutes.

"Hey, Tony," she said with a wide grin.

Tony smiled back. "You ready to work your magic, Elaine?"

"Always. Now, is it on your computers only?"

"It seems like that."

"What about Agent McGee's computer?" she asked, pointing to the still-unoccupied desk.

"I don't know," Tony admitted. "But then I don't know the Probie's username and password; so I wouldn't be able to check."

"Let me do that first. It's not with anyone else on this floor. Seems to be just here in this area. I can't think why that would be." She headed over to Tim's desk and sat down. As she typed, Tony began to wonder just where Tim was.

"Shouldn't McGee be in by now?"

"Yes, DiNozzo. He should. You forget what time the work day begins?" Gibbs asked.

"No, Boss...but why would he be late? McGee's never late."

"Yes, he is," Ziva said. "He has been late before."

"Because he didn't hear his phone on a Sunday and because his sister was accused of murder."

"It's not what you think it is," Elaine said.

"What is it, then?"

"Someone's grafted a new login screen over the real login screen. I just can't figure out how to get around it." Then, she blinked. "Oh! Neat! I wonder who did this. It's so cool!"

"What?" Tony asked and walked around to lean over her shoulder.

"There's a hint option, even!" She clicked on it. "'Who knows what evil lurks in the heart of man?'"

"The Shadow knows!" Tony replied.

"The Shadow?" Ziva asked.

"A comic book character. 1930s," Elaine said before Tony could answer. "Well, spaces aren't allowed. Not even numerics. Well...who wants to try The...and Shadow?"

"Is this how you always work?"

"Sure! That's what's so fun about being a tech. Why would we want a regulated job?" She typed in the words. "Wow! It worked! 'The' as the username and 'Shadow' as the password. Okay, let's look at everyone else's."

"Do mine first, please," Ziva said. "I have work to do and Tony will only goof off."

"Sure, Agent David." Elaine patted Tony on the cheek. "You'll have to wait."

"I can hardly contain my excitement," Tony said. He looked at Tim's computer. It seemed likely that Tim had done this himself. Who else would? And why? He looked at Gibbs and could tell he was thinking the same thing.

"Okay, the hint function isn't showing up," Elaine said, squinting at the screen. "It must be here. This looks like the same program. Let me try..." Her voice trailed off as she began clicking keys. "Aha! Here it is! 'Rhymes with..." She stopped and looked up at Ziva.

Ziva looked over her shoulder and actually flushed slightly.

"What, Ziva?" Tony asked.

"'Rhymes with 'tiny witch'."

"Uh...you want to guess what it's supposed to be?" Elaine asked tentatively.

"I will type it in," Ziva said and leaned over.

She guessed correctly and the original login screen popped up.

"Will I have to do this every time?"

"Probably not," Elaine said quickly. "When you're on break or something, I'll see if I can get rid of it. You want to be next, Tony?"

"Sure. I'm guessing this is going to be nasty."

Ziva didn't reply. She was staring at her computer screen.

"Let me at it," Elaine said and sat down.

She was much faster in finding where the hint function had been hidden on the page.

"You want to see it privately?" she asked.

"Nah. Bring it on," Tony said. "I'm a big tough guy."

Elaine clicked on the hint.

"Read it," Tony said.

"'Synonym: Stupid. Rhymes with plastered.'"

"Username and password?"

"I'd assume so."

"Okay. It doesn't take a genius...which I apparently am not...to figure this out." He sat down and tried a couple of different combinations before there was a ding sound. "I'm in."

"Last one," Elaine said, looking at Gibbs.

He gestured mutely and she hurried over. It took her longer than Tony had expected to figure out how to bring up the hint for Gibbs.

"Um...Agent Gibbs, does this mean anything to you?" she asked. "'You know everything. Figure it out yourself.'"

Gibbs shook his head mutely. Tony looked at Ziva who shook her head quickly and said nothing. The silence was very awkward.

"Whoa!" Elaine said suddenly.

"What?"

"A countdown just started up. Five...four...three...two..."

A voice began repeating two words over and over. Not loudly, but there was no pause. Just the same two words. Over. And over.

"_Incompetent a–"_

"Problems, Agent Gibbs?" Vance asked over the repeating mechanical voice, his own voice deceptively mild.

Tony jumped. He hadn't even noticed Vance arrive.

"I'm sorry, sir," Elaine said. "I'll just... Just give me a minute." She typed the two words into the fields and then another box came up. She winced and read aloud. "'I'm sorry. I didn't hear you. Please try again.'"

Vance looked on without speaking. Just waiting...for something.

"I'm sorry, Agent Gibbs. It's a bit more involved for your computer. I don't know why," Elaine said and typed in the same password. Another box. "'One more time. Let's have it really sink in.'"

She took a deep breath and typed it in again and finally the voice stopped and the regular login page popped up.

"I'll fix that when you have time for me."

"He has time right now," Vance said. "I need to speak with you and your team, Agent Gibbs."

"McGee isn't here yet, Director Vance," Tony said.

"Why would he be?" Vance asked, looking at him in surprise.

"What do you mean?" Ziva asked. "Is he ill?"

"Was he fired?"

"You changing my team again, Leon?" Gibbs asked.

Vance turned around. "Are you really as ignorant as you're all acting? Agent McGee resigned on Friday. He didn't tell you?"

"What? No!" Tony said. "That's impossible!"

"You had no idea?" Vance asked, his voice growing cold.

"No. He said nothing to intimate that he would quit," Ziva said.

"Gibbs?"

"No."

Vance looked at them all. "Should I be as disgusted with you all as McGee was? Or should I just be disappointed in your actions...or _lack_ thereof for the past eight months?"

"You want to talk with us, Director?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes. I think it might be illustrative of what you _didn't_ do." He turned and began walking toward the stairs.

Tony glanced at Ziva again. Neither of them moved. Nor did Gibbs. Vance stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked back.

"Excuse me," he said, raising his voice for the first time. "Have you all failed to communicate for so long that you've forgotten what an order sounds like? That was not a request!"

Tony started to follow, aware of many sets of eyes on them...and aware that things had suddenly spiraled headlong into insanity when he wasn't looking.

"Ms. Morrison?"

"Yes, Director?"

"Come up to my office and give me a report on the origin of this...prank when you manage to fix these computers."

"Yes, Director."

Vance walked up the stairs without looking back. He didn't need to. What remained of the MCRT was hot on his heels. Vance stopped at the door to his office.

"Agent DiNozzo, Agent David, you will wait here," Vance said, pointing to the couch.

"They can hear whatever you have to say to me, Leon."

Tony had thought that Vance's expression couldn't get any colder. He was wrong.

"Do you really think _you _get to set the terms of this meeting, Agent Gibbs? Let me disabuse you of that notion right now. _I_ am setting the terms. _I_ will call them in when it is time. No sooner. In the meantime, _you_ will come into my office."

Everyone knew that Gibbs generally got his way. No one was more stubborn...until now. Mount Everest was more likely to budge than Vance was. Tony could tell the moment that Gibbs came to the same conclusion. He followed Vance into his office and closed the door behind him.

"How could he have quit and not told us?" Ziva asked. "If it was just us, would he not have transferred elsewhere?"

Tony shrugged with feigned nonchalance. "Who knows? McGee is obviously missing a few screws at the moment. If he really quit, then that proves it. Even Sarah knows how much he loves NCIS."

"Then, why has he abandoned it? It must be because of being undercover. He could not handle it."

"Did it make him crazy? I don't think that's a normal side effect."

"McGee is not normal. He never has been. He is not as you and I. We perhaps forgot that."

"I never forgot that...and I still think that we wouldn't have done him any favors if we _had _treated him any differently."

"Are you saying that he would have quit no matter what?"

Tony shrugged. "I guess Vance shouldn't have put him into that position."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Are you blaming us for McGee quitting, Leon?" Gibbs asked.

Vance sat down at his desk and looked at Gibbs for a long moment.

"Are you as incompetent as you seem, Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs sat down and said nothing.

"Would you like to explain something to me?"

"I don't know why McGee quit."

Vance slammed his hand on his desk. "This is _not_ the time to start saying meaningless sentences, Gibbs. You will listen and answer when I have questions." He took a deep breath. "Were you planning on _telling_ me that Agent McGee aided in smuggling ammunition?"

"What?"

"You didn't know?"

"When did he do that?"

"Over five months ago. It was in his report which I read last night."

It was hard to say it. "I didn't know."

"He didn't tell you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I'm not McGee."

"I'm well aware of that."

"Anything else?"

"Have you read his report?"

"No. He was still working on it on Friday."

"Are you sure of that? Were you even paying attention to him enough to know?"

A tentative knock on the door.

"Come!"

The door opened and Elaine came in.

"Director?"

"Yes, Ms. Morrison?"

"I found out who put that login page on their computers."

"Already?"

She nodded. "I...found the signature."

"Who was it?" Vance asked.

"Agent McGee."

Vance nodded, unsurprised. "Thank you, Ms. Morrison. Have you removed the offending programs from their computers?"

"Not quite. Agent Gibbs' computer is rather difficult."

"You can go back to that, then. Call up any help you might need. That will be all."

"Thank you, Director." Elaine left quickly, obviously grateful that she didn't have to stay.

"You didn't notice that he was working on a program rather than on his report?" Vance asked once the door had closed again.

"I'm not watching him every second of the day, Leon. That's not my job."

"No, it's _your_ job to know what's going on with _your _team. If you're not paying attention, then we have a problem. Did you know that Agent McGee had taken ecstasy?"

"Yes."

"And you failed to report that?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"He promised it would be the one time. It was an acceptable risk."

"Acceptable risk? When we _knew_ that there was danger of death from the laced pills?"

"Yes. He made a choice and I allowed it. I let him know that if he did it again the operation would be over."

"Anything else you failed to mention?"

"No."

"Did you know that Agent McGee personally helped assemble the drug line when they were falling behind?"

"No."

"Did you know that Agent McGee wrote a program for them that would enable them to process their drug money more efficiently?"

"No."

"Dang it, Gibbs! What were you three _doing_ out there? You were supposed to be his backup, his support team! Where _were_ you?"

"We couldn't always be watching him. We had to trust him to tell us what was necessary."

"And obviously he didn't feel the same." Vance stood up and stalked to the door. "DiNozzo, David, inside."

Tony and Ziva came in.

"Sit." He pointed to some chairs.

They sat without speaking.

"Now, I would like you to listen to something and tell me what you think about it."

He clicked his remote.

"_Hello? Anyone there? Tony? Ziva?"_

Tony and Ziva looked at each other in surprise. They clearly had no idea.

"_I really don't want to be alone right now. Please?"_

That sounded like Tim...someone they just now realized was very different from the person they'd been interacting with for the last few months.

"_...I'm afraid."_

Vance clicked the remote again.

"I never heard McGee make that request," Ziva said, instantly. "I would not have ignored it had I heard."

"Were you aware he felt that way?"

"No."

"DiNozzo?"

"No, Director."

"You had no concerns about Agent McGee's behavior during the entire seven months?"

Ziva looked at Gibbs. Vance noticed.

"This is not some exclusive club! You are members of the MCRT, not a fraternity! You do not keep secrets, particularly when the case at hand is so important."

"We had concerns," Tony said. "McGee seemed to get really invested in his persona."

Ziva nodded reluctantly. "He was often angry without cause. He resented us, although I do not know why."

Vance laughed, mostly out of disbelief. "You're all completely clueless, to the point that I wonder how it is that you could possibly have become members of the most successful MCRT in NCIS."

"We didn't have the benefit of seeing him after a long period of time," Gibbs said.

"And yet you all noticed his anger. You all noticed that he was having problems...and you did nothing about it! Why not?"

"I did not wish him to get into trouble...and he was doing his job well."

"Did you ever bother telling _him_ that?"

"I'm sure we did," Tony said.

"And you never made the slightest mention of any concerns. You never suggested pulling him out, even for a short space of time. Not once."

"It was his first undercover mission. It was way more intense than it should have been," Tony said.

"So you hold me responsible?"

Tony had sense enough not to answer.

"You had no idea that Agent McGee harbored those kinds of feelings of fear and isolation?"

"No," Tony admitted. "But I don't see why he didn't say anything to us before!"

"Did you resent that I chose him and not you for this operation?"

"Uh..."

"Answer the question, Agent DiNozzo."

"Yes, sir."

"And you, Agent David?"

"Yes, Director. I felt you had made a mistake."

"And you, Agent Gibbs?"

"It's my team."

"And my agency," Vance said, but didn't linger on that point. "You are not supposed to be mind readers. That's not your job. It's to act as a support. _However_... Agent McGee knew of your jealousy, of your resentment from day one. He was nervous about this assignment. Yes, it was incredibly challenging as a first time undercover, but once the assignment had been made, whatever childish notions you had about what you _deserved_ or what impressive skills you had should have been buried. Agent McGee should _never_ have known that you resented him. He had to have someone to lean on, and the people assigned to help him thought they could do a better job of it. ...and didn't keep that a secret. _That_ was a colossal failure on your part. ...and Agent Gibbs, the onus is on you."

"Sir..." Tony began.

"Quiet, Agent DiNozzo. It is not your turn to speak," Vance said. He looked back at Gibbs. "As you said moments ago, this is _your_ team. Agent McGee is a _part_ of that team, and you should have been treating him as such, not a pawn in some ridiculous power play. He didn't trust you. He didn't trust any of you and from the way you have acted...or _not_ acted, I can see why."

"We did not say anything because we wanted to make sure he did not get into trouble," Ziva protested.

For the second time, Vance slammed his hand down on the desk. "_That_ is the problem, Agent David! There are rules in place at this agency. There are rules about how investigations are run. There are rules about undercover operations. They are _not_ in place for fun. They are not suggestions. They are not guidelines. They are _rules_! You people have continually placed your own judgment above that of _everyone_ else. You think you did Agent McGee a favor by possibly ignoring something that has led to our current situation? Do you really think that ignoring the strictures imposed on when and how to pull someone out of an undercover assignment did him any good at all?"

Silence. Vance took a breath.

"And now he's left. He resigned. He let you all know what he thought of you. While I don't approve of his methods, nor of his actions...I can't say I blame him. Your decisions, first in broadcasting how much better a job you thought you could do than he, second in ignoring the warning signs, have indirectly caused Agent McGee's resignation. By rights, I should simply fire you all and start fresh with people who bother using their heads and not their egos...but you _are_ good at your jobs. I expect that to continue, and whomever you choose to replace Agent McGee had better be treated well. I don't want your well-placed guilt, your anger at me or any misguided idea of getting Agent McGee back to affect how the MCRT performs."

"He's not coming back?" Tony asked, in surprise.

"I tried to call him this morning. His number is out of service. I spoke with Dr. Mallard who informed me of his concerns about Agent McGee's state of mind. He wanted nothing more than to be quit of NCIS and everyone here." Vance picked up three files. "Agent Gibbs, you can choose from one of these three agents to put on your team in Agent McGee's place. I expect a decision by the end of this week."

"Is that all, Director?" Gibbs asked, ever unreadable.

"Yes. Perhaps Ms. Morrison will have managed to erase the evidence of Agent McGee's feelings towards you. ...but I hope you don't forget it. Dismissed."

An awkward pause and then the three agents stood and walked out of the office. As soon as they were gone. Vance stopped pretending to work. He knew he bore a share of the blame himself...and that Tim wasn't blameless either, but that all this could have gone on... It was so clumsy, so callous...and it had led to the loss of a good agent.

That was inexcusable.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Tim sat, staring at his phone. He knew that Matt was right, that he needed to call his family. He didn't want to. It would be like if he had gone and spoken to a shrink. They'd tell him things he already knew, things he didn't care about anymore. He wasn't interested in anything they had to say. ...but they were his family.

He decided to call Sarah first. She would be so excited with this first contact that she wouldn't notice anything.

He hoped.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It took Elaine an hour to finally clear everything off Gibbs' computer. Every time she got one part of the program erased, the two words would repeat again. She hated it. She knew she was good at her job, but Tim was a good programmer and he could make it difficult. He had. She knew it wasn't directed at her, but she couldn't help thinking that Tim should have thought of something that would affect _only_ Gibbs if he was so mad at him. It wasn't as if Gibbs would ever be expected to fix something like this.

...and yet, at the same time, she noticed that Tony and Ziva both winced every time the voice started repeated again...as if Tim was physically _hurting _them.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Carefully, Tim dialed the number Sarah had left for him.

"_Sarah McGee!"_

"Hi, Sarah."

A pause.

"_Timmy? Is that you?"_

"It's me. Hi, sis."

"_Timmy! Wow! I'm so happy to hear from you! You're back! ...you _are_ back, right? You're safe and home?"_

"Well, I'm at Matt's place. I'm house sitting for the summer, but yes. The operation is over and I'm back."

"_And you're okay?"_

"I'm fine."

"_No...I don't think you are. Tim...you sound funny."_

"I'm a little keyed up from everything, Sarah. It was a long time."

"_Tim...are you sure? You sound different."_

"I'm sure."

"_Can you tell me what you were doing?"_

"Not yet. It's for a case."

"_Have you talked to Mom and Dad?"_

Tim felt the tension in his hand, spreading to his arm, as Sarah kept asking her eager questions. He knew it was because she'd been worried, but he didn't like it. It made him feel on edge, nervous. Angry.

"Not yet. I left a message for them; so they know I'm home."

"_That's it?"_

"Yes, that's it."

"_Timmy..."_

"Look, Sarah, I've been busy, okay?" Tim said, finally losing his temper.

There was a pause.

"_I...I'm sorry, Tim,"_ Sarah said softly.

Tim sighed. "No...no, _I'm_ sorry. I'm just...I've been answering so many questions over the last few days. I guess I'm just not up to answering more right now."

"_Are you sure that's all it is?"_

"Yeah," Tim lied. "How long will you be gone?"

"_All summer. The course runs to the end of August. Then, I'll be back and trying to figure out what to do with my life."_

Tim thought about that. He didn't have the slightest idea what to do with his own life...not that he was going to tell Sarah. She didn't need to know that he had quit. That revelation could wait. ...indefinitely as far as he was concerned. He was glad Sarah wouldn't be back for a while.

"_Maybe...you could take some vacation days and come out to see me. You've never been to England."_

"No, I haven't. Maybe I can..."

Sarah couldn't have missed the lack of enthusiasm, but she exercised a surprising amount of restraint and didn't comment on it.

"_I'm so glad you're back, Tim. I was worried the whole time you were gone."_

"Thanks. I'm fine."

There was an awkwardness that Tim knew was due to his tone. He couldn't help it. He had thought that maybe he could fool Sarah since she wouldn't see him...but even if she wasn't sure exactly why, she could tell something was going on. Given enough time, she'd remember Tim's anger in years gone by. He didn't want her thinking about it.

"Oh, Sarah, I have to go. I just wanted to make sure you knew I was back."

"_Okay. I have to head to the library anyway. Call me later, okay? ...or I'll call you."_

"My number has changed," Tim said quickly. "I'll call you...later. Bye, Sarah."

"_Bye, Tim,"_ Sarah said, her voice sad.

Tim hung up. Even if he was angry at the others, not at his family, he was convinced now, more than ever, that his plan was the right one. Talking with Sarah had proved it. He did feel a slight pang about that, but in the long run, it would be better. He turned his mind onto the certainty that his parting gifts would be thoroughly enjoyed by now.

He smiled to himself and headed out to the swimming pool. Now, they'd understand...and with the way people at NCIS talked, _everyone_ would know...and they'd know who had done it.

The MCRT was a joke.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs finally sat down at his computer and logged in.

There was a new wallpaper on his monitor.

It was a pair of eyes, staring at him, surrounded by a matte black. The eyes were green and slightly hooded, as if they were looking up at him. Knowing who had sabotaged the computer before, Gibbs figured it must have been Tim who had done this as well. There was something off-putting about those eyes.

They were Tim's eyes...or were they? They had a look of malevolence that Tim certainly didn't have. ...or he hadn't. Then, he noticed the words glowing beneath the eyes. They were familiar, but he couldn't remember where he had seen or heard them before.

"Why The Shadow?" Tony asked, startling Gibbs out of his own thoughts.

"What?" Ziva asked.

"Why did McGee change his login to _The Shadow_ of all things?"

"Well...who is he?"

"McGee?"

"The Shadow," Ziva said firmly. "Who is he? Why would McGee choose him?"

"He's a superhero like Batman," Tony said. "He fights crime by using hypnosis to cloud men's minds. He's a vigilante."

Gibbs looked at the words glowing on his monitor and suddenly remembered where they came from.

"He terrified his targets before taking them down," he said quietly.

Tony and Ziva both looked over at him in surprise.

Gibbs smiled slightly. They were always shocked when he revealed a normal human interest. "It was a radio show and a pulp. My dad liked it. He had a cover identity and used that to gather information. He made it seem like he was somewhere else and would have an evil laugh as they tried to kill the illusion he put in their heads. Every radio show ended with the same thing."

"What?" Tony asked.

"'The weed of crime bears bitter fruit. Crime does not pay... The Shadow knows!'" he said, reading the same words on his screen. "Apparently McGee is familiar with it, too."

"Why do you say that, Gibbs?" Ziva asked.

"Because he put it on my computer."

"He did something else?" Tony asked.

"Yep. Changed my screen."

Tony and Ziva both came over and looked.

"Wow," Tony said, eloquently.

"'The weed of crime bears bitter fruit,'" Ziva read. "Why would McGee do that?"

"I don't know."

"Is this really our fault?" Tony asked.

"Do _you_ think it is?" Gibbs asked, staring at those eyes. It was hard to look away from them.

"Why did we not realize that McGee was having problems?" Ziva asked. "When did he become so adept at hiding?"

"When he had to be someone else," Tony said. "...hey...do you think we ever actually _saw_ McGee or were we only seeing Thomas Allen McKay?"

"I don't know," Gibbs said and tore his gaze from those glaring eyes. He had no idea how to change his monitor background. Before Tim had put those eyes there, it had simply been a boring blue.

Now, it was Tim's parting message. He just didn't think he was getting it.

...and maybe they hadn't been, not for months.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Vance walked into Abby's lab, relieved that the music was off...and that she was the only one there. Just by her depressed stance, the scuttlebutt had already reached her and she knew Tim had quit.

"Ms. Sciuto?"

Abby jumped and turned around.

"Director Vance! What...are you doing here? I mean, it's _your_ agency; so I guess you can be anywhere you want to be, but you don't usually come down here, not unless you want something, but if it was part of a case, it would be the undercover drug stuff and that's Gibbs' thing...since...since Tim isn't part of it anymore and so it seems weird that you're down here and I'm just curious..."

"Ms. Sciuto, I'm more than happy to satisfy your curiosity if you would do me the courtesy of allowing me the chance to speak."

"Sorry...I was rambling. Is this about Tim?"

"Yes."

"What? I had no idea!" Abby said, her eyes tearing up. "I only saw him the once while he was undercover and when he came back, he kept avoiding me! I tried to go to his apartment and he was there...I think, but he wouldn't answer the door. His phone was turned off. Then, I tried to call this morning and it was out of service! I'm really worried about him, but I can't tell you anything!"

Vance smiled. Sometimes, Abby acted like a child, but he was gratified to know that _someone_ had been worried enough to check up on Tim.

"He avoided you?" he asked, curious.

"Yeah! Not just being out of the room when I was looking, either. I tried to give him a hug to welcome him back and he held me away from him."

"Hmmm... Well, I'd like to ask a favor of you, Ms. Sciuto."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. I would like you to see if you can track down his whereabouts. Do you have the time for it?"

"Yes! I mean, I'm busy, of course, but I have time! I can _make_ time! ...but I'm not sure where to start."

"His phone is out of service, you said?"

"Yes."

"What about GPS tracking?"

Abby blushed. "I...I already tried that, Director."

Vance smiled. "No luck?"

"No. He must have disabled it. He'd know how."

"Yes, he would...and that means that he doesn't _want_ us to find him. The next question is, knowing that he wants to be left alone, should we continue the search?"

"We _have_ to, Director! He's...Tim's not right! I could tell when I saw him, but I didn't know he would _quit_! He was so different. I'm worried."

"As am I. How about his phone? There are ways of tracking it, even if it's off."

"Yes. Yes! There are! ...but that could be a violation of privacy. I mean, Tim hasn't committed a crime."

"No. We're...or at least _you're_ his friend and you're worried about his well-being. I don't want to put out a BOLO to search for him. I'd rather have this done quietly and unofficially. ...and, Ms. Sciuto?"

"Yes, Director Vance?"

"If you _are_ successful in tracking him down, do not run off to confront him. There is something more going on here than I think any of us realizes, and I don't want to push him further away. I simply want to be sure that he's all right. He quit...rather adamantly, and if he is sincere, bringing him back won't do NCIS...or McGee any good at all. Understood?"

Abby nodded, albeit rather reluctantly. "Yes, Director. I understand. Should I keep it a secret?"

"Do you actually think you could?"

Abby smiled miserably. "No. Not if they asked."

"Then, don't bother trying. I still haven't decided how to go about this...if anything is to be done at all, but I'd like to be prepared."

"Yes... Director Vance?"

"Yes, Ms. Sciuto?"

"Could I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Why are _you_ worried?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said you were worried, too. Why? _You_ didn't try to hug Tim...did you?"

Vance laughed and stood up...not yet willing to reveal all he knew...even to a sympathetic source.

"No, I didn't. Let's just say that I have my sources...and my reasons to believe that McGee is...at least at risk...from himself. Besides, it's against my grain to abandon someone who obviously needs help, even if they _want_ to be. Let me know if you are successful."

"I will. Thank you, Director."

"For what?"

Abby smiled. "For giving me permission to do something I would have done anyway."

"You're welcome." Vance walked back out of the lab, knowing that, if Tim could be found, Abby would find him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

He spun around in a whorl of images, people laughing at him, putting him down...attacking him. They pressed closer and closer, their faces changing from teasing to evil. He was afraid of them. He pulled out his gun and began shooting them. As the bullets struck each attacker, they exploded into motes light that gradually dissolved away...

...until he was alone, still spinning, surrounded by mirrors now, reflections of himself, images of Tim McGee.

Then, the spinning stopped. He raised the gun toward the mirror.

...and he fired.

The mirror exploded and he screamed...

...and he sat up on the deck chair by the pool, still screaming, startling Jethro who flinched away from him and trotted to the other side of the lawn as Tim looked around, terrified.

He didn't know where he was. He couldn't remember. What was going on?

He stood up and spun around in circles, trying to get his bearings...lost his balance and fell headfirst into the pool.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Tim surfaced, sputtering, panicked, flailing...until he realized how close he was to the side...and that he could touch the bottom of the pool. He grabbed for the side and pulled himself over...but he couldn't get out of the pool. He was shaking too much to do anything but lean his head against the side and try to calm down.

_You're such a weakling! A few bad dreams and you fall apart! It really is a good thing you quit. Now, you can get away from them and NCIS can rise in quality a little bit._

Even with his mind berating him, he couldn't stop the trembling, not for ten minutes or more. He simply clung to the side and tried to calm down.

He remembered where he was now. Matt's house. He had come here to house sit. That's right. He wasn't in Norfolk. He wasn't in any danger.

_You were never in danger. Those fools you investigated didn't pose any sort of threat. Look at how easy it was to take them down! Get a hold of yourself!_

When he figured he could pull himself out, Tim got out of the pool, clothes streaming water. Jethro padded over to him and stopped just out of reach. He whined softly.

"Yeah, where were you?" Tim asked and then was embarrassed at how shaky his voice was. "I thought pets were supposed to save their masters."

Jethro's ears drooped.

Suddenly, Tim was possessed of a strong desire to have someone close. No one was...but Jethro was there. He scooted back from the side of the pool and gestured.

"Come here, Jethro."

Jethro's ears went up, but he hesitated.

"Please?" Tim asked.

Jethro whuffled at him and then trotted close. Tim put his arms around the German shepherd and buried his face in Jethro's fur.

Tim could feel the need to weep...but he wouldn't, not even now. He just hugged his dog until he stopped shaking...but he felt cold. Really cold. Even the parts of him that were dry were cold. Even worse was the fact that he still felt terrified, as if he had faced near death instead of a brief dunking in a swimming pool. It was ridiculous that he could feel that way.

"Thanks, Jethro. I'm...going inside now." He let Jethro go and stood up on shaky limbs. He was annoyed with himself when he noticed that his hand was still shaking as he opened the back door.

"Stupid," he said to himself. "Idiot. What were you thinking? It was just a dream."

Jethro was beside him as he walked inside. Tim looked down.

"It was just a dream, Jethro." He shivered again.

As quickly as he could, he went upstairs, changed into dry clothes and got in bed, burrowing under the covers. He still felt an unearthly chill in his bones.

However, when he felt Jethro's comforting weight at his back, he closed his eyes and fell asleep again.

...but he didn't sleep for long.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Hey, Sarah! We're all going down to the pub. You in?"

Sarah shook her head. "No. Thanks though. I have to call my parents."

"Your parents are taking precedence over drinks?"

"It's Monday!" Sarah said and laughed. "Sorry, Mad. This is an important call."

"All right. Everything okay?"

Sarah nodded. "I think so."

"You need anything?"

"Nope. I'm good. Thanks."

Sarah waved her friends away and then dialed. It would be expensive, but Tim had worried her. He rarely got angry at her, and he had seemed...different. She wasn't sure just how or why, but he wasn't acting like himself.

"_McGees."_

"Hey, Dad."

"_Sarah! And calling from the wonderful land of Winston Churchill!"_

"Oh, Dad. You really need a new hero."

"_Never. What's up?"_

"Have you talked to Tim yet?"

"_No. Not yet. He left us a message last week, but when I tried to call him, the number was out of service. We gave him until Sunday to call us back. He didn't want us to."_

"So you pretended to go along with what he wanted."

"_Of course. That's the mark of a good parent."_

"I'll remember that. What did he tell you?"

"_Nothing other than that he was back and he was safe. He sounded tired."_

"When he talked to me, he sounded wrong." Sarah sighed. "I don't know, Dad. Something is off about him. He wouldn't talk to me for very long, and he said his phone number had changed but he didn't tell me what the new number was...like he didn't _want_ to talk to me."

"_Do you know if he talked to Matt at all?"_

"Oh! I didn't even _think_ of Matt! I should have. I bugged him often enough while Tim was gone."

"_I may call him myself. You've got me worried now, Sarah."_

"Good. I hate being the only one...and it's not like I can do anything from here."

"_To be honest, if Tim _doesn't_ want to talk to us, then it's not likely that we can do anything either. ...but we can try. Did he tell you what he'd been doing?"_

"No. He just said that he was keyed up...and that it had been a long time."

"_Well, it was that, and I have to admit that I don't know what to think or guess about this."_

"You mean you don't have all the answers, Dad?"

"_You should know by now that your parents usually don't have all the answers. We just put up a good front."_

"I love you, Dad."

"_You should remind me more often. I'm getting old. I might start forgetting."_

"Oh, Dad. You can tell Mom, too."

"_Wow. What brought on this outpouring of love?"_

"I don't think I've ever lived away from family before," Sarah said. "I don't know if I like it all that much."

"_Well, enjoy the experience...but stay safe."_

"I will. Bye, Dad."

"_Good-bye, Sarah."_

Sarah hung up and thought about it. It was very unlike Tim to stay out of contact with them. Even back in college, he would call occasionally and write more often. She was worried, but there wasn't anything she could do, not if she couldn't contact him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tim, what did you do to your phone?" Abby muttered at the computer. "I should be able to trace it, especially if you use it...even once. Even if you took out the GPS...even if it's out of service. What did you do?"

Another negative. The only reason she was still trying was because she figured that, even if it was deep down, Tim really did want someone to find him. This was Tim, after all...and even if he was angry at them for whatever reason, he wouldn't want to be alone.

"Abby...I did not know if you would still be here."

Abby turned around. "Hey, Ziva. I was about to give up for tonight. Why are _you_ still here?"

"Give up?"

"Uh...nevermind. Why?"

Ziva sighed. "You have heard about McGee?"

"Yeah. Do you know why he quit?"

"Not exactly. I can guess."

"You can?" Abby asked in surprise. "Why?"

"Because of being undercover."

"Well, _I_ could guess _that_! I thought you'd be more specific. He's been weird since he got back."

"Yes...but he was acting strangely before we came back. I realize now that he was angry at us."

"Why?"

"I am...not sure, but...it could be that he did not appreciate how we acted. Tony and I...we were jealous that he was chosen to be undercover."

Abby looked at Ziva in confusion. "Jealous? Why would you be jealous? It's undercover work! Not a Christmas present...or Hanukkah, I guess. He was working hard!"

"Yes. I know. We were being stupid."

"Duh! ...but you didn't do it for very long, right? I mean, it was only at the beginning right? You guys wouldn't be..."

Ziva looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"You _would_ be?" Abby asked. "How could you be stupid for a long time? You guys aren't stupid! I mean, you've done stupid things before...everyone does sometimes, but come on! This is Tim! He _never_ does undercover work! He's a geek, and just this one time he got picked to do something really hard and challenging and difficult and stuff and you guys were _jealous_ and...and _acted_ like you were jealous? Are you really that dumb? _I've_ been dumb before, but it didn't last for months! Please tell me that it didn't last for months. It didn't, right?"

"I did not _think_ so, but I could be wrong."

Abby turned back and looked at the monitor. The search was running...but right now, she didn't_ want_ any of them to know what she was doing. With a decisive stroke, she stopped the search. She would work on it tomorrow when none of them were around.

"I thought that Gibbs was bad when he blew me off about something being wrong...but...did you _know_ that something was wrong?"

"I should have."

"But you didn't?"

Ziva sighed. "Abby, I do not know. All I know is that McGee quit. It could only be from the undercover operation...and he apparently hates us all enough to have sabotaged our computers before he left. He did not bother to tell us he was quitting."

"Ziva?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"I do not know that, either...but Tony is trying to pretend that nothing is wrong. Gibbs is saying nothing at all. I feel that something is wrong and that, to some degree, I am to blame for it. I want to do something, but I do not know what to do now. McGee has been one of my closest friends. Now, I have lost him...and I did not even notice that I had."

"I don't know what to tell you, Ziva," Abby said, not feeling particularly sympathetic. "You noticed a bit too late."

"I know."

"I'm going home now."

"Yes. All right."

Abby walked by Ziva and then stopped just before she got to the elevator.

"Ziva?"

"Yes?"

"You're not going to get Tim back by feeling sorry for yourself," she said, surprised at her own ferocity...but knowing that apparently Tim had been driven away by the actions of the other people she also cared for put her in a bad position and she hated trying to navigate between anger at them and caring for them. So she got on the elevator quickly and left.

Hopefully, she'd be able to find where Tim was in the morning.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Midnight rolled around, and Tim was still in bed...but not asleep. He'd awakened from another nightmare hours before, scared Jethro away, and had stayed under the covers but hadn't slept again since then.

Finally, Jethro whimpered at him and reminded him of his responsibilities.

"Jethro, I'm sorry," he said and threw off the covers. "I should have fed you hours ago. ...oh, and I'm supposed to put the pool cleaner thing in the pool."

He got up and headed down the stairs, Jethro on his heels. He quickly fed his dog and then walked out to the pool. It didn't take long to get the cleaner situated...but Tim found that he didn't want to go back inside. He was shivering again, but...

_Why would frogs come and drown in the pool? Why would they keep doing it?_

Tim sat down on one of the deck chairs...and waited. He wanted to see it happen. He wanted to _see_ the frogs drown. Shaking, he curled up on the chair and watched.

...all night.

...and the frogs came. Not a lot, just a few, but three or four. He watched them in a kind of morbid fascination as their dark shapes hopped across the light-colored pool side...and then flopped into the water. There was some splashing. One frog actually made it back out and then hopped away. The others drowned.

...and their bodies were slowly sucked down to the bottom of the pool and into the pool cleaner.

Tim watched every one of them die...and watched them all get sucked into the cleaner.

It took all night, but it meant that he didn't have to try and sleep. He could watch the frogs instead.

...but he never stopped shaking.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Abby came in early. She wanted to try another method before the others came. She hadn't decided what, if anything, she was going to say. ...especially to Gibbs. Abby didn't, as a rule, get genuinely angry at Gibbs. She was miffed on occasion...and she'd been offended a couple of times...but really mad? No.

...and she was really mad this time. If Ziva was being accurate, then they'd been mean and dismissive of Tim for months and he had quit because of that. It didn't _quite_ add up in her head, but it was enough to make her furious and want to _be_ angry.

She set the search running and fumed at her computer.

"_I_ could see something was wrong! Why couldn't _they_?"

"Wrong about what, Abigail?"

Abby looked back over her shoulder. "You're here early, Ducky."

"I'm located much closer to NCIS than I was. What has you so irate?"

"Did _you_ know that Tim quit?"

"Yes, I had heard that rumor. So it's true, is it?"

"Yes!" Abby said, "And it's all _their_ fault!"

"Well, a _lot_ of it probably is, but Timothy has free will, too."

"And he's gone!"

"By his own choice, Abigail," Ducky said gently. "We may not like it, but if that is what he wants..."

"It _can't_ be, Ducky! It can't be what Tim wants! ...besides, even _Vance_ is worried about although he wouldn't tell me why. Something makes him think that we should find Tim."

"Really?"

"Yes! He told me that I should do a search for him, see if we could track him down...but not go and see him."

Ducky nodded. "I see. It is probably for the best, although regretful that it should be necessary."

"But what good will it do if we find him and then leave him all alone?"

"It is respecting his wishes, my dear. That is important."

"But his wishes are all twisted up right now!"

"Nevertheless, there are limits to how much we can force on an unwilling listener."

Abby bit her lip. "What do I do, Ducky? If I do find him, what do I do?"

"I wish I could tell you," Ducky said. "Much depends on Timothy himself. That is something we can't control."

"Yeah. I know." Abby took a deep breath. "But there's one thing I can do...and I'm going to do that right now."

"What's that?"

Abby screwed up her courage. "I'm going to tell Gibbs off!" Then, she nodded firmly and headed for the elevator. She didn't care if Gibbs wasn't there yet. She'd wait.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim fell asleep around the time the sun was just brightening the eastern horizon. It was a dizzying kind of slumber, full of strange and disturbing images that he couldn't quite see, full of sounds that kept his mind from truly resting.

Then...he felt something wet and cold on his arm. He came to consciousness immediately, afraid of the sensation of attack. He actually raised his arm to hit whatever had touched him.

...and then he realized what the feeling had been.

"Jethro!" Tim said, panting in surprise. "Don't...don't _do_ that, okay?"

He wiped at his face and felt the cold sweat beading up on his forehead. As a matter of fact, he felt generally cold all over.

"You hungry?" he asked, not having the slightest clue what time it was.

Jethro blinked at him without reaction.

Tim stared back at his dog, trying to decide how he felt about him. Jethro...the dog who had attacked him. The representation of Abby's period of utter dismissal of his own feelings. ...and yet, Jethro was here. He hadn't abandoned Tim.

"I'm sorry, Jethro," Tim said...but the word felt foreign in his mouth.

_You don't owe any apologies! Not to anyone!_

Maybe not...but Tim could see that his actions had unnerved his dog who now didn't seem to know how to react around his master.

He looked at his watch. It was just past seven. He'd had only three hours of sleep...if he was lucky. To think, normally at this time of the morning, he'd be at NCIS. He was sure that everyone there would be glad he was gone now...especially his erstwhile team...and Vance. He'd have read everything Tim had decided to do while undercover.

_It was the right thing to do! Stop questioning yourself!_

"Jethro, you hungry?" he asked again.

Jethro got up and trotted toward the screen door...which was not locked. Tim realized he hadn't turned on the alarm system and since he had spent his whole night outside, that meant that he had completely and utterly failed to be the house sitter Matt had asked for. He'd have to make sure he remembered tonight.

"Why don't we go exploring later on today, huh, Jethro?" Tim asked as he poured the dog food into Jethro's dish. "Maybe that will stop these chills. It's been so hot the last few days. I shouldn't be cold at all." He shivered. "You eat and I'm going to shower."

Jethro licked Tim's hand and then began eating. Tim walked out of the kitchen, but a thought struck him as he walked.

_Maybe I can find where the frogs come from..._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony found Abby sitting at Gibbs' desk, doing a very good job of taking over his role as the one who glowered at everyone.

"You heard, I guess," Tony said, guessing what she was angry about.

"DiNozzo...come here," Abby said, glaring at him as she stood up.

"What are you going to do to me?"

"Nothing you don't deserve. Come here."

Tony figured that there was more danger in trying to avoid whatever Abby planned on doing than in getting it over with; so he set his bag down and walked over to where Abby stood, towering in her platform boots.

_Thwack!_

"Ow!" Tony was shocked. Abby had given him a Gibbs slap!

"There. Now, where's Gibbs?" she asked.

"You're not going to give _Gibbs_ a headslap."

"Watch me," Abby said.

Tony could no sooner have _not_ watched than he could have kept from wincing when Abby had walloped him. She could seriously give Gibbs a run for his money.

"Gibbs!" she said, looking past him.

"Oh, no," Tony muttered to himself.

"Abby, I'm busy," Gibbs said. "Later."

"No, Gibbs! Now!" She walked over to him and Tony winced as he heard Abby make contact with the back of Gibbs' head.

_Thwack!_

"I can't believe that you let all this happen! It was wrong! It was stupid! ...and you're supposed to be smarter than that, Gibbs! I can't believe you!"

There was a moment of silence. Then, another...

_Thwack!_

"There! I'm finished," she said and then promptly started crying and ran to the elevator.

Tony wasn't sure he dared turn around. He heard a soft sigh.

"Is this about McGee?"

"Yeah."

No other response. Gibbs walked around to his desk and sat down. Tony tensed as he logged in, wondering if they'd hear that voice again.

Nothing.

"Tony?"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"You and Ziva will be working with JAG today, helping them sift through all the information from the undercover operation and see what will be needed for the trial. They want to start building their case right away."

"On it, Boss." Tony headed to his desk again, finally able to move. "Boss?"

"Don't ask, Tony," Gibbs said and then grabbed the files Vance had given him the day before. "Don't ask."

"Right, Boss."

Gibbs headed up the stairs and Tony sat down. It felt like all of NCIS had been shaken apart by Tim's departure. It was silly because, while the MCRT was an important aspect of the day-to-day operations of headquarters, they were hardly the be all and end all of the place. ...and yet, people were tiptoeing around the bullpen, as if they were afraid they'd be next. Everyone seemed to know that Tim had quit, that he had left in some sort of fury and that it had taken the rest of his team by surprise.

As he waited for Ziva to arrive, he began really thinking about what had happened. Tim's fist connecting with his nose had come totally out of the blue. Okay, Tony could admit that what he'd said had been in poor taste, but it was no worse than he'd usually said, and Tim had never punched him out before. ...but in that moment, it was almost like he had been a total stranger. The look in his eyes, the tenor of his voice. Everything was like Tony had been interacting with a stranger...with Thomas Allen McKay instead of Timothy McGee. ...and yet, Tim had never shown any real connection to Julia before. Sure, they'd had sex, but beyond that?

But now that he thought about it, it didn't make _sense_ for Tim not to be bothered by that. Tim was the gentleman, the one who opened doors for women, not because he saw them as lesser beings but because he saw them as people to be respected. Having sex with a woman just to get on her good side so that he could use her connections _should_ have bothered Tim. A lot. ...but except for that first time, he hadn't shown any sign that it _had_.

The elevator dinged and Ziva walked off it.

"It doesn't make sense," he said to Ziva as she approached.

"What does not make sense?"

"McGee."

"What do you mean? I think he has been _very_ clear."

Tony looked up. "No, not that. Everything about this undercover op. McGee should have been having a really hard time, but he didn't. Except at the very beginning when _anyone_ would have had some trouble. Why didn't he?"

Ziva leaned against her desk. "Perhaps he was better than we thought."

"No...no, it doesn't have anything to do with being good at undercover stuff. It has to do with _who_ McGee is. He's not the kind of guy who _would_ have been able to deal with all the junk he had to do without some problems...but he never showed it. Not once."

"Maybe he did...and we were too wrapped up in our own perceptions to see it."

"He was only mad at us."

"Yes. Without cause it seemed. Maybe he was angry that we did not see his problems."

"That doesn't feel right."

Ziva shrugged. "I did not say it was certain. I was giving ideas." She stood and walked around to her computer. She logged in, but Tony saw her moment of trepidation, fearing that the dreaded login screen would reappear.

It didn't.

"That worried me, too," he said.

"What?"

"Logging in."

"I was not worried."

Tony just laughed. "Gibbs wants us working with JAG today."

"Very well. Has he said anything about replacing McGee?"

"Not to me, but he had the files Vance gave him in his hand."

Ziva looked over at the empty desk. "I do not want another person sitting there."

Tony shrugged, trying to pretend it didn't bother him. "Gibbs will find a way to get him back. It's McGee. He belongs here."

"Tony, this is not something you can pretend will work out!" Ziva said, her voice tight with frustration. "McGee quit! He _hates_ us now! Do you really think that everything will just go back to normal? It will not!" She picked up her bag and sighed. "It does not even matter if he does. If he comes back, it will not be to work with us."

"Why do you say that? Where else would he work?"

"With people he respects."

"McGee respects us," Tony said...before realizing that was a pretty stupid thing to say in light of yesterday's events.

"Yes, so much that he has not spoken one word to either of us that was not saturated with disdain. Face it, Tony. We lost his respect and he has no interest in letting us get it back. We have work to do."

Tony watched her stand and walk back to the elevator. When she reached it, she looked back.

"Are you coming?"

"Yeah. Just a second." He looked at his computer screen...and noticed something. It was small, in the corner where he didn't normally even look. He clicked on the icon and brought up a text box.

"Hey, Ziva. Come here."

"What? Do we not have to go?"

"Yeah, but look."

Ziva came over and looked over his shoulder.

"I think you're right," Tony said. "He won't be coming back."

Ziva said nothing.

The message Tim had left said it all, really.

_I should have let her kill you._

Tony closed the box, sent the icon to the recycling bin and then walked with Ziva to the elevator. As the doors closed, he couldn't help feeling that something _had_ been destroyed during that operation...but the worst part was that he had no idea when it had died. It was like living alongside a corpse for months and not noticing it was dead.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim and Jethro went exploring that day. There were wild areas all around Matt's property, places that begged to be examined. Tim found the place where the frogs probably had come from. He could see why they left. It was a small marshy area. Smelly, full of stagnant water, pond scum and bugs. The pool probably looked like a vast improvement...but...

_...but they keep dying there. Why would they try to go back to something that has killed so many?_

He looked at Jethro who showed very little interest in going further.

"Why do they do that, Jethro? It makes no sense. Why are they so stupid?"

Jethro looked up at him and whined. Then, he nudged at Tim's legs, pushing him away from the marsh and back to the open fields. Tim knew what he wanted. Jethro wanted the ball Tim had in his pocket.

"Okay. We'll go."

Tim started to pick his way out, but he heard some croaking frogs. He stopped. For no reason he could articulate, he turned around.

"Stay here," he called. "It's not worth coming out! The marsh is better!"

Jethro barked at him and Tim looked back.

"Right. I'm coming."

He was tired, but he'd been tired for a long time. If he kept staying up, maybe he'd get so tired that the dreams would stay away.

_You're such a weakling. Face the dreams like a man! They're just dreams. They don't mean anything. You shouldn't be crying about bad dreams like a baby. Grow up._

Jethro barked again.

"Coming, Jethro."

Tim walked away from the marsh and the croaking frogs.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby didn't see anyone from upstairs for the rest of the day. She had work to do; so it didn't much matter. Besides, her eyes kept filling with tears at random moments and she didn't like that. It felt like everything was falling apart. That stupid operation. If it hadn't been for that, everything would be normal. No one would have left. No one would be missing. It would be business as usual.

She wouldn't have had to give Gibbs a head slap.

The sun went down when she finally got a beep from her search for Tim.

"Aha! I knew you couldn't hide from me, Tim! I'm too good!" Abby said triumphantly. She looked at the map, at the dot blinking in Maryland. It looked like the middle of nowhere, but the phone seemed to be in use, and she could see the information. Same phone, different data. He'd changed the SIM card.

"Gotcha."

"Got who?"

Abby quickly clicked off the monitor and turned around.

"You always know when I have something, Gibbs."

"What do you have this time?"

"I found Tim."

"Where is he?"

Abby sniffed as she felt tears in her eyes again. "It's none of your business, Gibbs. Not anymore."

"Abbs..."

"No! It's not! You didn't care before! Why should you care now?"

Gibbs didn't rise to her bait. "Abby, where is he?"

"Maryland."

"That's a pretty big state."

"Vance didn't think we should go and just invade his privacy, Gibbs. You don't need to know where he is because you shouldn't go and talk to him."

"I _need _to talk to him, Abby. If I'm going to make up for the last few months, I need to start now, not later...when it's too late."

Abby shook her head. "It's _already_ too late, Gibbs. Tim quit. He hates you all. He's avoiding me...and I didn't even _do_ anything! So...it's too late. He doesn't want us around anymore."

"Do you really want to leave it like this, Abby?"

"No! ...but it's not up to me."

"Maybe not, but until McGee is off the employment roster, he's a member of NCIS and on my team. That means he's still _my_ responsibility. Where is he?"

"What you did wasn't right."

"I know."

"Are you going to get him back?"

"I don't know."

Abby sniffed again.

"Can I come?"

Gibbs smiled and shook his head. "This time, it needs to be between McGee and me."

"Okay." Abby turned around and brought up the map. "Here he is." She quickly wrote down the address. "I don't...wait..."

She quickly typed the address into a search.

"I know where he is," she said in surprise. "He has a friend who lives out there. From MIT. I've never met him, but Tim's talked about him before. His name is Matt. That must be where he is. ...at least he's not alone."

"Thanks, Abbs."

"I'm going to have to tell Vance. _He's _the one who asked me to find Tim. Not you."

"I don't care if you tell Vance," Gibbs said. "I'm worried about McGee."

"It's about time," Abby said angrily.

Gibbs nodded and smiled. "I know. Thanks, Abbs."

Abby watched him leave and then wrapped her arms around herself and hoped that, somehow, things still _could_ go back to normal.

...but she couldn't help but fear that it was an impossible hope. Things could never go back to normal again.

Tim was gone.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was late when Tim finally returned to the house. He felt his body start shaking again. He fed Jethro and made a sandwich for himself. He only ate about half it and threw the rest away.

Then, he trudged up the stairs and fell onto the bed without changing. He just kicked off his shoes.

...but before he fell asleep, he remembered the pool cleaner. He wouldn't slack on the job. It was such a simple thing to do that he should be able to handle it.

He patted Jethro on the head and forced himself down the stairs and out to the pool. After lowering the cleaner to the bottom, he found himself wondering if the frogs would listen to him.

Tim laughed to himself at the idiocy of the thought...but he sat down on the chair, again prepared to watch and see if they came.

He'd been sitting out by the pool for over an hour when he heard someone opening the front door.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Instantly, Tim was on the alert. Whoever was coming in wasn't bothering to be quiet...but why not knock? Jethro whined softly at him, but Tim silenced him quickly.

"No, Jethro. Shut up."

He didn't want to risk being found...not until he was armed. He wished that he hadn't left his gun at NCIS. He suddenly felt very vulnerable. How stupid was he, giving up a weapon. It was an act of near lunacy. He crept toward the house, glad that the kitchen was right there. Inside, he slunk along the counters to the knife block. Silently, he slid a serrated edged knife out of the block and then snuck to the door. Whoever was there had not moved very quickly.

Jethro nudged his leg.

"Stop it," he hissed. "You want to get me killed?"

Slowly, Tim edged his way through the hall toward the front of the house, knife at the ready. Then, suddenly, Jethro barked excitedly and dashed forward.

"Jethro!" Tim called, heart in his throat.

"McGee?"

Instantly, all Tim's worry, his tiredness, everything, it all disappeared beneath the rising tide of anger at hearing the voice of his former boss. He tightened his grip on the knife and smiled coldly.

"Breaking and entering is a crime, Gibbs," he said.

"You didn't lock the door."

"I must have."

"Nope."

"Fine. You can close it on your way out and I'll lock it after you leave. I don't want any dangerous invaders."

"Is that what I am?"

Tim laughed. "What are you doing here?"

"Checking on you."

"How noble. How long did it take Abby to find me?"

"A day."

"Did you ask her to do it?" Tim asked, not sure why he was bothering.

"No. Vance did."

"Figures. You've checked on me. I'm fine. Go away."

"Not yet. Why don't we talk first?"

"Nothing to talk about."

"Come on, McGee. Why are you hiding from me?"

"I don't hide from anyone," Tim retorted and walked out into the foyer where Gibbs was standing with Jethro wagging his tail at him. "Traitor," he muttered.

Jethro whimpered and his tail drooped.

"Not his fault."

"Never is anyone's fault but mine, is it."

"You planning on using that on me?" Gibbs asked, pointing at the knife.

"Thinking about it...but I don't want to get blood on Matt's floor. That wouldn't be very nice."

"Killing me would?"

"In my current worldview," Tim said, not giving an inch.

"Then, you're definitely not fine."

"Why? Because I'm not kowtowing to the great Gibbs?"

"No, because you're condoning general murder."

"Not general. Just yours."

Gibbs inclined his head. "Point taken. Let me ask you a question."

"No."

"Where did you get the idea for Thomas?"

Tim laughed. It was not because he thought it was a funny question. In fact, the laugh startled Jethro who whimpered at the sound.

Tim ignored that. Instead, he looked up at the ceiling and threw his arms out, knife still in his hand.

"Now, he asks!" he shouted. "_Now_, he asks! When I don't care if he knows or not!" Abruptly, Tim stopped laughing. "The time is long past when I wanted you to know that, Gibbs."

"I guessed that."

"Then, why bother asking?"

"You're the one who thinks I'm incompetent. I'd think you _enjoy_ the chance to show me up."

"Didn't take much. How long did it take IT to get your computer to stop talking?"

"A while. I wasn't there for most of it."

Tim smiled. "Were you with Vance?"

"Did you plan on that?"

"Well, I gambled. It was a good gamble as it turned out. I'll bet all of NCIS knows now."

"More or less."

"Good."

"Why?"

"They should know...exactly what the MCRT really is."

"What is that?"

"Nothing but a bastion of stupidity and corruption. I thought about doing more than just messing with your computer. I could have leaked information about things you've done over the years, things you've had _me_ do. Times when I've broken the law at your orders."

"Why didn't you?"

Tim didn't answer. "Is that everything, Gibbs? It's late."

"You didn't answer my first question."

"What does it matter now?"

"Maybe not at all. I'd like to see how truly incompetent I am, though."

Tim shook his head and laughed in disbelief. "I can't believe I ever thought you were someone to admire. You're just as much of an idiot as DiNozzo. ...only worse because you're _supposed_ to be intelligent. ...and you're just like all the rest."

Gibbs patted Jethro on the head and then walked toward Tim who backed up, brandishing the knife slightly. He didn't really think that Gibbs would hurt him. Did he?

_You can't trust him. You can't trust any of them._

Gibbs simply walked past him...and Tim followed, almost against his will. What he wanted was for Gibbs to leave...right?

_That's right. Get rid of him._

Gibbs walked into the kitchen and perched on a stool.

"Where did Thomas come from?" he asked, his voice eminently reasonable. ...so much so that Tim wanted to hit him.

"Do you really want to know or is this just you trying to save face?"

"Save face? From whom?"

Tim stalked to the knife block and replaced the knife he'd been holding...in spite of the fact that he wanted a weapon in his hand. He didn't turn around. His hands gripped the edge of the counter tightly...until his knuckles were white.

"Do you have any idea how much I hate you right now?"

"I'm getting an idea."

"No! You couldn't possibly know. You couldn't possibly truly know how much I hate you and everything about you. I want to beat you senseless. Just hearing your voice makes me want to kill you. Tear you apart."

"Why?"

"That's why."

Silence.

"Because you don't have the slightest clue why I hate you...why I hate you all."

"So? Thomas?"

"I thought you guys might have asked at the beginning. I spent so much time making sure everything was right, and I assumed that one of you would take the time to review my methods. After all, it was my first real undercover mission. If you had been responsible, you would have checked. If you had, you'd have seen the mistake I made."

"Mistake?"

"Yep. Maybe I shouldn't have waited for you guys to think about someone other than yourselves. Maybe I should have asked myself, but you had made it clear you didn't think I should be doing this. Tony and Ziva were still putting me down every other comment. I didn't want this to be yet another opportunity to make poor wussy McGee look bad. ...but I know now, that I made a mistake, one that not a single one of you bothered trying to figure out." Tim straightened and turned around, glad that the island was between him and Gibbs. "I'm Thomas. Thomas is me."

"You're not Thomas, McGee."

Tim gave a derisive laugh. "Oh, please. Don't pretend you understand. You don't. If you did, you'd never have tried to say that. I _am _Thomas...because of who Thomas is."

"What do you mean, then?"

Tim let heavy sarcasm saturate his voice and he clapped his hands together like a kindergarten teacher. "Okay, class! Let's tell a story, shall we? Set the time machine for...sixteen...seventeen years ago. There was this kid. He was scrawny, nearly a genius...and a magnet for bullies. He must have had it tattooed in very special ink on his forehead and the back of his neck because no matter where he went with his family, the bullies zeroed in on him. It wasn't ever _really_ bad until he was bumped up a couple of grades. Then, his intelligence became an insult to his fellow students. They took it upon themselves to make sure he knew just how much of a loser he was. It wasn't ever serious, just constant, unending, interminable." Tim's voice lost the sarcasm and filled with anger and bitterness instead. "They tormented him for the years of high school, not letting anything get in the way of knocking down the geek. I think you can probably guess who that unfortunate soul was, can't you, Gibbs?"

Tim waited. Gibbs said nothing.

"Well? I'm waiting for answer."

"It was you."

"Very good, Gibbs! You figured it out! Well done! You get a gold star!" Tim said sarcastically.

Jethro came into the kitchen and whined softly. Tim looked at him and sighed. The German Shepherd came over to him, head down. Tim squatted on the floor and petted him for a moment.

"_You _didn't do anything wrong, Jethro," he said. "It's not your fault you have the name you do. Why don't you go outside and scare the frogs away?"

Jethro's ears perked back up and he trotted to the screen door. Tim opened it to let him out.

"So...where was I? Oh, yeah. End of high school. It was a wonderful time...in some ways. Our intrepid geek had been accepted to MIT, but because of recent family events, money was tight. He had a scholarship, but it would take a summer of hard work to make enough money to pay for all his living expenses. Still, he did it, and he went off to MIT, secure in the knowledge that he would be in a place where he'd make friends. After all...everyone was smart. It was MIT. He'd fit in finally. He'd be with people like him. Do you think it worked? Do you, Gibbs?"

Gibbs never looked away from Tim's face. In fact, his attention was so total that Tim felt slightly uneasy. He didn't like Gibbs staring at him like that.

"I'm guessing it didn't work," he said, calmly.

"You're right. It didn't. You see...this kid didn't know how to interact with people who weren't his family, his teachers or jerks trying to make him miserable. He was awkward, and so when he went there, he was so eager to be accepted and a part of the groups that he told them how smart he was, he talked about what he could do. He _showed_ them his skills and abilities. They rejected him. They didn't bully him. They were too mature for that. They simply excluded him, ignored him. He wasn't allowed to be a part of these groups of students. Do you see what was coming next?"

"I'll bet you're about to tell me."

"The problem was that this stupid teenager fell back on the attitudes he'd cultivated to comfort himself in high school. He had told himself that the reason the bullies wouldn't leave him alone was because, in their hearts, they _knew_ that he was actually a better person and they couldn't tolerate it. So they had to bully him to keep him lower than they were. He was better and they knew he was better. It was the same at MIT, it seemed. Because he was a bit younger and smarter than the rest of them, they couldn't tolerate it. He wrapped that arrogance around himself as a protection...and instead of trying to be a part of the groups, he actively shunned them. All of them. No one was worth knowing. Does this sound familiar to you?"

Another long silence.

"I asked you a question, Gibbs," Tim snapped. "Does it sound familiar?"

"Yes."

"Good. It should. ...but you see...something happened in the second year at MIT. My parents had sympathized with what had happened and tried to help me see that I was making some mistakes, and I agreed to try. I went back...and failed again. I decided to give up on that. Basically, my whole life fell apart. I didn't make enough money during the summer, but I didn't let my mom and dad know that...because we'd been sued. Money was really tight what with Dad's medical bills and the legal fees. So, I made other arrangements. I figured I could get through a year eating a lot less. Who really needed three meals a day? One was enough...one stretched out. I took more classes than I should have because I was worried about not being able to come back if we needed more money. I didn't go home at all. Greyhound was too expensive. I was near a total breakdown. ...and someone stepped in."

"Your friend, Matt?"

"Very good, Gibbs. You're learning," Tim said sarcastically.

Jethro began scratching at the door to come back in. Tim walked over and opened it.

"Any frogs, Jethro?"

Jethro barked at him and panted.

"Come on in. I suppose you've done your civic duty." He refilled Jethro's water dish, crouched by Jethro as he lapped and panted, and then looked up at Gibbs again. "It took more than a year to get me to decide to let go of all that. I didn't want to. Matt made the effort and by the time he got married and graduated, I was making friends of my own, not just his friends who tolerated my existence. I wasn't perfect, not by any means...and I'm sure you know that the arrogance about my intelligence is not dead." Tim stood up. "It would help if you all weren't so dang _stupid_."

"And so...where does Thomas fit into all this?"

"You can't see it? You really are stupid!" Tim took a deep breath. "Thomas is the person I would have been if Matt hadn't tried to help me out. One person caring enough to ask and to persist in it. That's what it took. If not for Matt...I would have been Thomas. Hating the world, knowing I was better than everyone else...and totally uninterested in forming attachments with people. People are stupid and not worth the time. They exist to be used. I thought about what kind of person would be able to get in with these people we were investigating. I read the files we had on Jewel. I knew I couldn't be a convict. I didn't need Tony and Ziva telling me how incapable an actor I was. A convict wouldn't work. I needed someone real...someone authentic. I needed to be myself." Tim laughed. "So that's what I did."

"You became yourself?"

Jethro finished his water and settled by the door, clearly anxious but Tim ignored him for the moment.

"That's what I did when I went undercover as Thom E. Gemcity for about ten seconds. To become Thomas, I simply sat down and extrapolated. It was easy. ...and it scared me how easy it was. I figured that when I showed you all the background, the identity, you'd ask me questions. I figured that even if you were sulking about my assignment, you'd still do your jobs and check. You didn't. So...I decided that even if it was a mistake, I'd just keep with it. I knew I could be Thomas...because I already almost was. It didn't take much...and as things kept going the way they did, being Thomas was even easier. Thomas did all those things. I didn't...but even that didn't work."

"Why didn't you tell us about those things you did?"

Tim glared. "Why should I?"

"We were your backup, McGee."

The absolute injustice of that statement made Tim's already simmering anger begin to boil. He turned and kicked Jethro's water dish so hard it flew across the kitchen and splashed water all over the wall.

"_I never had backup!_" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "You were _never_ backup for me! Not _once_!" He kicked the island. "When I was upset about having to have sex with Jewel for the first time, all Tony did was make fun of me! When I told you about what I'd done, taking ecstasy, you threatened me! When I was coming to make a report, I heard you all talking. Everything was prefaced by, 'I didn't think McGee could do it.' ...as if it was all a big shock that I was anywhere _near_ competent! You weren't backup! You were there just waiting for me to mess up! That's not what backup is! Every step of the way, I was _on my own_...only with an audience there hoping I'd _screw up _so they could be the heroes!"

"We didn't want you to mess up, McGee."

"Oh, yes you did! You wanted it so you could be right and Vance could be wrong! Tony and Ziva wanted me to mess up so they could rearrange the world to fit in with what _they_ thought was right. McGee doesn't do undercover. McGee doesn't do the dangerous stuff. He's too weak. He's too inexperienced. He's not...he's not Tony or Ziva! That means he'll fail. He has to fail!"

Tim stared at Gibbs, but Gibbs said nothing.

"Well, I _didn't_ fail! I did everything I was supposed to do...including _killing_ the woman I was having sex with to save your miserable lives! ...and what happens? Do I get a good job or too bad? No, I get DiNozzo the Village Idiot cracking a joke! I get you taking my gun. I get everyone questioning every move I make as if I'm a bomb ready to go off!"

"You didn't tell all this to the shrink debriefing you."

"I don't want or need to have a shrink tell me what's wrong. I _know_ what's wrong...and I don't care! If I were to go to the mandatory therapy sessions, they'd try to tell me that I should give up and let go of my anger. That's what they always say...well, I don't want to. I don't care if it's not healthy. I don't care if it means giving up my job. I don't care about any of that. I am tired of letting people walk all over me. I am _tired_ of being the one who is wrong. I am _tired_ of you. I am tired of you and Tony and Ziva and everything about you. I _want_ to hate you. I _want_ to be mad. I _don't_ want to be reasonable. If that means quitting NCIS, good. I've done it. If that means cutting off all ties to people there, fine. Good. I'm glad. There is nothing about you that I find tolerable in the slightest. All I want is to hate you...and I've got that. So...you said I'm not fine? Perhaps not by a conventional definition...but by _my_ definition, I have everything I want."

"What are you going to do, then?"

Tim laughed. "I don't know! I don't care! I'm here for free for a few months. My family is away; so I don't have to justify myself to them. ...oh, eventually, I'll run out of money and have to figure something out, but I don't care. I tried it the world's way, and I don't like it. The few friends I have are not worth the aggravation of people like you."

"So that's it then? You've decided to be Thomas?"

Tim laughed again. He let the laughter ring out and savored the angry sound of it. "You decided that for me, Gibbs. I've simply allowed that it's the best option. After all, didn't Tony and Ziva _both_ say that Thomas was the better person? They should be happy. They're getting what they want. All the intelligence, hatred and loathing of Thomas Allen McKay...in the convenient container of Timothy McGee. I've made my feelings crystal clear. You couldn't _possibly_ have misinterpreted them. You might find some extra messages over the next few days, but you got the gist of it already."

"What about Abby?"

"What about her?"

"Do you hate her, too?"

"Only by association. It's best if she stays away. If she wants Jethro back, I can oblige. He'd probably be happier with her than with me."

"He certainly doesn't look happy right now."

Tim turned his head toward the door. Jethro was crouched in the corner, looking as though he didn't know whether to hide or to attack.

"Well, he's had to deal with someone who is irrationally angry. It can be difficult."

"What about Ducky? What about Jimmy? Vance?"

"What? You think by naming people who _haven't_ demonstrated their utter inferiority that I might change my mind? Not likely. I told you. Friends aren't worth people like you. If I have to give up some good people to get rid of the likes of you, it's better than the alternative."

Gibbs stood up and Tim backed away.

"You afraid of me, McGee?"

"I'm not afraid of anyone."

"You look like you're afraid."

"Well, then, I guess you're just stupid for thinking that, then, aren't you."

"Am I?"

"Get out of here, Gibbs. If I see you or anyone else from NCIS here without invitation, I'll call the police and have you arrested for trespassing. This is private property and you're not wanted."

"McGee..."

Tim immediately overrode him. "Look! I don't want you to apologize! ...even if I thought you capable of doing it. I don't want to hear from you! I don't want to see you! I don't even want to remember that you exist! I'd rather wash away all memory of ever knowing Leroy Jethro Gibbs, the worst team leader who ever lived, a man who puts himself and what he wants ahead of everything else...including the law when it suits him. You say _semper fi_, but what are you faithful to? Do you even know?"

"Do _you_?"

"Yes, I know. I'm faithful to one thing now. Me. No one else is worth the effort."

"You're right about one thing, McGee."

"Oh? Only one?"

"It's long past the time when there was anything I could do."

"Glad you've caught up, Gibbs. Have a nice life...or better yet, don't."

Gibbs turned and walked away, Tim followed him, if only to make sure that he left.

He did...and he never even looked back. Tim closed the front door, locked it...and remembered to turn on the alarm. Then, he went back to the kitchen. Jethro was still in the corner.

"Jethro, I'm not mad at you," he said. "Animals are light years ahead of human beings. We're lower than pond scum."

Jethro got up and trotted over to Tim who knelt down beside him.

"I shouldn't have kicked your water dish. That wasn't fair to you. I should have kicked Gibbs instead. Do you want to go to someone else? I won't make you stay here."

Jethro barked softly and licked Tim's face.

"Don't do that, please...but I'm glad you're not abandoning me, too. I'm going to bed. You coming?"

Tim stood and Jethro followed him up the stairs.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_...so Tim still hasn't called you?"_ Matt asked.

Sam sighed. "No. Not since he left a message last week...and his number isn't in service anymore."

"_Really? I hadn't tried to call him. Well, he's at my place...if you want to go and see him."_

"I don't know. I keep hoping he'll call on his own. It's not like him to leave a message and then nothing."

"_He wasn't acting like himself, Sam. Maybe he really does need time to unwind."_

"Tim doesn't really unwind. He either lets it go or holds onto it."

"_I wish I could help you more."_

"Oh, no! Not at all. You're on vacation and certainly not responsible for my son."

"_Still, he is my friend."_

"Don't worry. If Tim hasn't called by the end of the week, we'll make a trip to see him. Thanks for your help, Matt. As always, we're in your debt."

"_No. You're not. I just wanted to help."_

"You have. Thanks, Matt. Bye."

"_Bye, Sam."_

Sam hung up and sighed again.

"Nothing?" Naomi asked.

"Not since they left. I wish I knew why Tim was being this way. Matt only said that Tim felt he'd done some things that he wasn't sure of while undercover. He did call and talk to Sarah, but she said that she was worried about him, too. If he doesn't call us, we'll go this weekend."

"I can't believe Tim would quit NCIS and not tell us."

"We'll have to give him a little longer, Naomi. He's our son, but he's also a grown man and able to make his own decisions."

Naomi sat down and gave a worried smile. "I'm just afraid that he's not really making the decisions himself."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up in a blind panic at three in the morning.

He went down to the pool and watched the frogs drown.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

"I'll take this one," Gibbs said, putting a file on Vance's desk. He then turned to leave.

"Didn't work, did it," Vance said.

"What didn't work?"

"Confronting McGee."

"That wasn't why I went."

"Then, why did you?"

"To understand. Now, I do. That's the new member of my team."

Vance picked up the file and opened it. "Good choice. She'll work well with your people, I think."

"Is that everything?"

"How was he?" Vance asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Bad. ...but he won't accept help, not from anyone right now...probably not even his family."

"Have you read the transcripts?"

"No."

"You should...along with his report."

"I have his report."

"Good. Remember what I said before. I expect the MCRT to be operating at top form as usual. There will be a settling in period as there always is, but I don't want a repeat of what happened when Agent David was gone."

"There won't be."

"Good. Then, that's all." Vance looked back down at his paperwork.

"Leon?"

Vance looked up. "Yes?"

"Abby said you were worried. Why?"

Vance leaned back in his chair and looked at Gibbs for a long time.

"Why?"

"Because, Jethro...McGee talks in his sleep." With that cryptic statement, he went back to work.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim cleaned out the dead frogs and grass. There were only two frogs. They had put up a good fight, but they had died, just like the ones from the night before. Then, he went inside and picked up his phone. He'd wager that Matt had already talked to his parents, but he also knew that if he didn't talk to them soon, they'd take steps to force him to talk. He didn't want that. He didn't want to see them, not yet. Just like he wanted to keep Sarah away, he also wanted his parents away.

He dialed a very familiar number.

"_McGee residence."_

"Hi, Mom."

"_Tim! Oh, thank goodness. We've been so worried since your message and talking to Matt."_

"I'm fine."

"_Let me get your father on the extension. Sam! It's Tim!"_

Tim waited, heard the click signaling that his father was there and then started again.

"I'm fine. I've just been working some things out first."

"_You don't sound fine, Tim,"_ Sam said. _"Not at all."_

"Well, I am."

"_Matt told us that you quit."_

"Yes. I did. I'm not sorry about doing that. It wasn't a mistake."

"_What happened?"_

"Nothing. I just called because I knew you'd be worried and I didn't want you coming here."

"_Why not?"_

"Because I'm not ready to see you yet."

"_Tim, you're starting to scare me,"_ Naomi said.

"I'm just being honest, Mom," Tim said firmly. "I don't want you and Dad coming out here to check on me. I know you want to, but I _don't_ want you to. Please, don't."

"_Why not?"_

"Just trust me, okay? I don't want you to come and see me. I don't want you to show up on Matt's doorstep and surprise me. Just stay in Ohio and I'll let you know when I'm ready to see you."

"_What are you mad about, Tim?"_ Sam asked.

"Oh, lots of things, but don't worry, Dad. I'm not going to go postal or anything. Do you know what Oliver Wendell Holmes said about insanity?"

"_What?"_

"'Insanity is often the logic of an accurate mind overtasked.'"

"_Is that what you are, then, Tim?"_

Tim laughed. "I'm sure that if you asked some people, they'd say yes, but I don't think so. I know what I'm doing."

"_What are you doing, Tim?"_ Naomi asked.

"I'm living my life as I want to. I'm not going to let anyone tell me differently."

"_And you think we would?"_

"I _know_ you would."

There was a silence.

"_How long do you want us to stay away?"_

"Until _I'm_ ready to see you, not before then."

"_I don't like this, Tim. You don't sound well at all."_

"I know, but it's what I want. Will you respect that?"

Another long silence.

"_I don't want to, Tim,"_ Naomi said, honestly. _"I really don't want to."_

"Will you?"

"_We will," _Sam said finally, but the tone of his voice was not of acceptance, only of resignation. _"We'll do as you ask, Tim...but please, call us once or twice. Will you do that much?"_

"Yes."

"_All right. We'll have to trust you...even if I don't think it's a good idea."_

Tim laughed softly. "It's _not_ a good idea, but it's what I want, and I want you to leave me alone for now."

"_Okay."_

"I've got to go now. I'll call you...sometime. Bye."

Tim hung up before his parents could say anything else. It was quiet in the house.

"'Should the whole frame of nature round him break  
In ruin and confusion hurled,  
He, unconcerned, would hear the mighty crack,  
And stand secure amidst a falling world.' Joseph Addison."

Tim smiled.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs stopped the tape. To think that it had been sitting there on record for months and none of them had any idea. He rewound it and pushed play.

The moaning began at a low volume. The microphone wasn't in the bedroom, though; so it must have been louder. It gradually got louder. The occasional word could be heard. No coherent sentences, though, for about five minutes.

"_No...not...not me. It's not me! Please, no!"_

Variations repeated for about thirty seconds before Tim apparently woke up, breathing so loudly that the microphone picked it up.

The trembling breaths stopped after a few seconds, but Gibbs found repeat performances on a number of nights running from the second month of the operation all the way to the end. Quick passes through the video showed Tim awake and moving around a lot of those same nights. Not every night revealed the inner torment, but enough that it was obvious why Vance had been worried.

Tim had been afraid...of something, of someone. ...but he had never revealed any of it because of his belief in the motivations of his team...and more than likely the fact that he'd fully decided to go along with the ideas Thomas Allen McKay thought rather than what he himself would think. Somehow, Tim had managed to maintain his cover so thoroughly that even the obvious nightmares hadn't affected his performance, even if they had affected everything else.

Tim was right. He hadn't failed, not in his job.

...but what he was doing now... Did he really know and understand the consequences of what he'd chosen?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim decided to swim that day. For a few precious hours, he was able to forget about everything. Jethro played with him in the pool, splashing water everywhere. It was a lot of fun...something Tim couldn't remember having had in a long time.

He tired out from swimming much too quickly, but then he helped Jethro get the chlorine out of his fur by letting him play with the hose. Even that was exhausting, and so then Tim carefully herded the soaking-wet dog into the downstairs bathtub and gave him a real bath. Jethro was strangely docile all through it. Normally, he resisted getting into a tub and getting soaped up. This time, he simply licked Tim's face every time Tim got near him.

By the time Tim finished that monumental task, he was almost shaking with weariness. ...but he persevered. He fed Jethro, tried to eat a meal of his own...and threw most of it away.

After that, he had to give in to the need to sleep. He was starting to see double as his eyes tried to focus. He reeled like a drunken sailor to the nearest horizontal surface, a couch in the living room. He collapsed onto it and was asleep before he had a chance to do anything more than move a pillow under his head.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Is there anything we can do, Duck?" Gibbs asked earnestly.

Ducky sighed and turned off the tape. The sudden cessation of Tim's shouting made Autopsy seem very quiet.

"No, Jethro. We can't...not unless he wants the help...and if what you told me is accurate...which I assume it is...Timothy has no desire to work through his problems. Even if it means that we have to stand by and watch him self-destruct, there's nothing we can do. We might know that he needs the help, but his behavior, while disturbing, is not enough to have him forcibly committed."

"I doubt that would help anyway."

"As do I. No, Jethro. I'm afraid that Timothy has made it impossible to help him. All we can do is leave our doors open, so to speak. If he does ask, we can give the help he so desperately needs. Until that time, however, we will do more harm than good by trying to force him in any way."

"And if he never asks?"

"Then...I don't know what will happen. I really don't."

"And I'm just supposed to stand by and wait for him to destroy himself, Ducky?"

"Jethro...it's much too late to do anything else! I'm sorry, but..." Ducky sighed. "...but you all waited so long that...that now waiting is all you can do. I don't like it. It won't be pleasant, but that's all there is. Timothy has made sure of that...and I hate to say it, but he was helped by you three."

Gibbs nodded. It was true enough. Why fight it?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"We're getting someone new?" Tony asked.

"McGee quit," Gibbs said. "We have a desk to fill. She'll be starting next week."

"But Gibbs–!" Ziva protested.

"I talked to McGee yesterday. He's not coming back."

"You know where he is?" Tony asked.

"Yes...but neither of you are going out to talk to him."

"Why not?" Ziva demanded.

"Because he hates us enough that he threatened me with a knife and says that if he sees any of us on the property, he's going to call the police."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. So leave him alone. I'll make that an order if I have to."

"Is that the best thing to do...with McGee like this?"

Gibbs shook his head. "No. It's _not_ the best thing. It's the _only_ thing."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up, literally screaming in terror. Jethro was barking loudly and looking around for the threat.

"Stop! Stop!" Tim shouted at him. "Stop it!"

Jethro began whining and crawled under the side table.

Tim held his head in his hands. He could still feel her behind him, could almost feel her breath on his neck. He shuddered, suddenly cold. It was dark outside. How long had he slept? He had no idea, couldn't even remember what time it had been when he'd fallen asleep.

He tried to stand but he was shaking too badly to balance. For a few seconds, the shaking got worse not better, to the point that Tim was actually frightened by his own body's response to the nightmare. Then, the shudders eased and he got up. He thought about going to bed but there was no way he could face that again. Instead, he walked out to the pool, put in the cleaner and settled himself for another night of watching the frogs.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Time passed...

...and in a way, life went on. Jamie Chapel began working with the MCRT, a transfer from Norfolk...like Tim had been. She came in tentatively, but she wasn't like Tim. She was a lot more confident for one thing. Jamie had been working for NCIS for three years before this, and she knew what she could do. However, the scuttlebutt had been running rampant and she seemed to have an inkling that she was coming into a delicate situation. So...she didn't push to be friends. She simply did her job. They couldn't fault her for that.

Tim and Jethro continued their sojourn in Maryland. It couldn't really be called living. It was an existence...but not living. To live required something more than spending every night either screaming in abject terror or morbidly watching the drowning of multiple amphibians. He called his parents once. He called Sarah once. He even called Matt once. He didn't allow for any real conversation. Instead, he simply let them know that he was still alive..since he knew that was what they were worried about. In a way, life, such as it was, became easier. The days passed in a haze, the nights did too...mostly. Every so often, Tim thought he saw a familiar car on the road, but he ignored it. As long as they stayed away, they could look as much as they wanted. Look. Don't touch.

Abby, of course, didn't want to like Jamie, but Jamie was nice and not trying to muscle in on Tim's territory. So...it was hard for her to realize that Jamie was a good person who was going to be a permanent addition to NCIS headquarters.

And time went on...

More than a month went by. No one had more than a glimpse of Tim during that time. His insistence on total isolation continued. He refused visitors from among the people he didn't loathe and he had no interest in seeing the people he did.

...but the feelings weren't going away. The dreams weren't going away. That sensation of someone hovering just out of sight. He couldn't get rid of it. Sometimes, he'd notice slight tremors in his hands. Most of the time, what sleep he did get was as a result of nearly passing out from exhaustion...but he always woke up because of the nightmares. Always.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

"I'm coming, Jethro," Tim muttered as he heard the barking from the bedroom. "Just a second!"

He finished up in the bathroom and started walking out...but then remembered that he'd left the shower door open. He turned around to close it...

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky was glad that he was heading home. It wasn't very late, but unexpected calls in on Saturdays when he was supposed to be off had a way of crimping his style. He smiled to himself. Hard to crimp style that was already pretty crimped as it was. He was no spring chicken. Still, it was nice to be getting home only slightly after dark. He pulled his car into the parking space and then headed for his front door.

There was someone there. A man sleeping...or dead. Ducky was slightly worried until he heard a soft whimper, a sound he recognized.

"Jethro?" he whispered in disbelief. A shadow peeled away from the darkness of the stoop and moved down the stairs. In seconds, he had a large German shepherd dancing around him. "Jethro...whatever are you doing here?"

He continued on his way and saw that Timothy was the man on his steps...asleep...but, oh, how awful he looked. He was still very skinny and even in the shadowed light from the sidewalk, Ducky could see the strain in his face...and more.

"Timothy?"

No reaction, but Ducky saw that there were small scratches on his face and that he had one arm held protectively to his chest, even in sleep.

"Timothy!" He touched him gently on the shoulder.

Tim cried out in fright and sat up, his eyes wild, his breathing erratic. He tried to push away the physical contact.

"Timothy, it's all right. It's Ducky. You're all right. You're safe."

Tim didn't seem to hear or see him, however. He looked around and around, his head shifting in jerky, anxious motions, as if he was trying to find an attacker.

"Timothy!" Ducky said again and then gasped as the jacket on Tim's arm fell away, revealing several long gashes. "Oh, dear. What are you doing here? What happened to you?"

"I...I need to be safe...Ducky...I ...I need...safe...safe..." His voice was almost unrecognizable. It was rough, shaking. It sounded like the voice of a stranger.

"All right. Come inside. I'll keep you safe."

He reached out to help Tim stand but Tim was having none of it. He flinched away from Ducky's touch and began to shake violently.

"Let me help you, Timothy. I won't hurt you."

Still shaking, Tim allowed Ducky to give him a hand standing and then put a guiding arm around him as he led the injured man to the door.

"Come along, Jethro," he said. "You may as well come inside, too."

Jethro whimpered softly and followed the pair into the house.

"All right, lad. Come this way. I have a spare room. You can lie down and rest."

Tim's shaking seemed to increase and Ducky was unpleasantly surprised at how thin he was. It was as bad, if not worse, than Tim had been undercover. He turned on a light and Tim jumped. His eyes were still wild and frightened. How much stimuli was actually getting in was unknown, but he could tell that there was something that had happened. There were dark circles under his eyes. The shaking could be from lack of sleep...or food...or something else...or a combination of things.

"Right in here, now, Timothy," he said, keeping his voice soft and soothing, avoiding anything that might frighten him. In his current state, Tim could probably throw a punch just out of fear...and Ducky was fairly certain he couldn't take that like he could have as a young man.

"J-Jethro...he's...he should be..."

"He's right here, lad," Ducky said quickly, slowing down so that Jethro could brush against Tim's legs.

They reached the bedroom and Ducky directed Tim to the bed, chancing letting the man stand on his own while he turned down the covers.

"There you go. Just sit down right here. Good lad. That's it."

Tim perched uneasily on the edge of the bed, clearly ready to launch given the slightest provocation.

"I'm just going to take off your shoes, Timothy. Understand?"

Somewhere in the shaking was a motion that was possibly a nod. Ducky knelt down and slid off Tim's shoes. He wasn't wearing any socks.

"Now, let me take a look at your arm."

"No!" Tim said instantly, curling in on himself. "Don't touch! No...I...It will..."

"Just let me see it and bandage it up. It will help it stop hurting, all right?"

Tim subsided. He wouldn't look Ducky in the eye, even though he continued move his gaze all over the room.

"Jethro, you stay here," Ducky said, petting him on the head.

As much as dogs could express anxiety, Jethro was, pacing back and forth between Ducky and Tim, occasionally letting out a soft whine.

Ducky crouched down.

"I'll be right back. I promise."

Jethro whuffled at him and then licked his face.

Ducky laughed and scratched behind Jethro's ears. Then, he got up and headed to the closet where he kept a first aid kit. It didn't take long and when he came back, Tim hadn't moved. The blood on his arm was dry and had been for a long time it seemed. Tim was still shaking.

"Timothy?"

Tim jumped and looked at Ducky in fear.

"It's just me. Would you let me take a look at your arm now?"

Tim hesitated and then extended his arm. It was visibly shaking. Ducky pulled a chair over to the bed and took Tim's arm.

"Okay, let's see what we have here."

There were quite a few cuts, but none of them were very deep. Ducky carefully cleaned them all. Tim tried to pull away every time he touched them, but Ducky kept a firm grip on his arm even as he took pains to make sure Tim stayed calm.

"Patience, Timothy. Almost done," he said soothingly every time.

When all the cuts had been treated, Ducky let go.

"There."

Tim pulled his arm back to his chest.

"Why don't you lay down and rest, lad?"

Tim didn't respond directly but he allowed himself to be maneuvered onto his back. Ducky then pulled the blankets over him and watched as Tim's eyes closed and sleep came...and the shaking stopped. Ducky leaned back on the chair and sighed. Of all the ways in which he might have hoped to see Tim again...this was not even _on_ the list.

A cold nose nuzzled his hand and Ducky looked down.

"Well, Jethro...welcome to my home. I wish you could tell me what had happened to cause this dramatic appearance weeks after Timothy's departure from our lives."

Ducky would be the first to admit that he was no expert on dogs (corgis notwithstanding), but Jethro didn't look all that healthy himself. His tail was down almost between his legs and his ears drooped. He leaned over and began petting Jethro, scratching his ears and generally paying close attention to him.

"You look as though you need someone pampering you, Jethro. I'm guessing that you didn't get that from Timothy." Another sigh. "Well, I don't keep dog food on hand since I got rid of Mother's corgis...but there is a grocery store just down the street. I little like the idea of leaving Timothy alone, but I think you need something more than I could give you. Stay here while I make a quick visit."

Jethro moved over beside Tim's sleeping form. Then, he flopped down on his stomach and stared at Ducky as if to say, "Well? Get going!"

"All right. I can see I've had my marching orders." Ducky stood and headed out. He hoped that Tim would stay asleep until he returned at the very least.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"So...does this happen a lot?" Jamie asked.

"What?" Tony asked.

"Saturday nights spent here."

"Oh. Yeah...sometimes. Sundays, too. Never happened to you out at Norfolk?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Fridays? Absolutely. Sailors were all drunk and sleeping off hangovers on Saturdays."

Tony laughed. "Well, at least we finished up before Sunday."

"Hey, Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't have to keep trying, you know."

"Trying what?"

"To treat me like I'm part of the team. I know you guys don't want me here."

"That's not it."

"It might as well be. If you don't want to be friends, I'm cool with that. Coworkers don't have to hang out all the time. Just don't try if you're not feeling it. That only makes it awkward...and I'm here whether you like it or not. Got it?"

Tony smiled. "Understood."

"Good. See you next week."

"Right."

Jamie gathered her bags and headed out. After the elevator doors closed, Tony sighed. Jamie was right. They'd been trying much too hard to make this work...if only because Vance had insisted that they keep operating as usual. Tony knew that he, at least, had taken that mean everything as usual...including the camaraderie they'd had in the past...but Jamie wasn't Tim...and she never would be.

"She's right, Tony," Gibbs said.

"Yeah. We're trying to make it be like it was before. It can't be."

"Maybe it shouldn't be."

"Don't you want McGee back, Boss?"

"Doesn't matter what I want. Doesn't matter what _you_ want. It's what we have. Deal with it."

Tony shrugged. "Maybe I don't want to."

Gibbs sat down at his desk. The malevolent green eyes were still on his monitor. He didn't know how to get rid of them...and he wasn't about to ask for help.

"Then, you'll have to figure it out. I don't have time."

"That's always the problem, isn't it," Tony said. "No one wants to take the time."

Silence.

He got up and left.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky was relieved to find that Tim was still asleep upon his return. He was a bit restless, but sleeping.

"Jethro," he said softly. "Are you hungry?"

Jethro leapt to his feet rather quickly and followed Ducky into the kitchen.

"I'm afraid that I don't have any bowls specifically for dogs, but I assume that you can tolerate that for one meal at least."

Jethro was fairly dancing as Ducky poured food into a large bowl and then set it and a bowl of water on the floor. Instantly, he began eating...but Ducky was relieved to note that it wasn't with the kind of desperation which would denote starvation, merely a day at most. So Tim, even if he himself was not in the best shape, had made _some_ effort at keeping Jethro well and healthy. That was something...not much, but something.

Having taken care of the physical needs of his surprise visitors, Ducky went about taking care of his own needs. He didn't feel up to cooking anything after all the excitement, but he had some leftovers from the night before and he quickly warmed them up and ate, hoping against hope that some sort of inspiration would come to him about how he should deal with Tim when he awakened. It really depended a great deal on what exactly had happened to him. Was it a reaction to a genuine trauma or had it been some sort of devolution into self-harm? Until Tim broke out of this altered state, he probably wouldn't know.

Jethro made it known that he needed to go outside after he ate, but then, he went into Tim's room and took up a position that looked nothing short of guard duty. Tim still slept. Ducky watched him for a while. It was such a shock to have Tim suddenly appear...and of all the people he could have come to, it was Ducky he had chosen.

"What are you thinking of, Timothy?" he asked softly.

Tim stirred slightly but didn't awaken.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_I don't care if Tim said he didn't want visitors! You have to! He hasn't called anyone in more than two weeks!"_ Sarah ranted.

"Sarah, you know what Tim can be like," Naomi said. "If he really doesn't want us there, showing up will only make it worse."

"_But...if something is really wrong, something that he can't see..."_

"There _is_ something wrong, Sarah," Sam said. "We all know that...and that includes Tim. The problem is that he doesn't care that it's wrong...and we can't force him to."

"_Why not?"_

Sam laughed. "Because when has Tim _ever_ been forced to see something against his will?"

Sarah laughed too, but there were tears in her voice.

"_I'm afraid that he'll be gone when I get back...and I'll never see him again."_

"I hope it doesn't go that far."

"_But what if it does?"_

"I don't know. Honestly, Sarah... we just don't know. We just have to hope that he'll see that he needs help."

"_What if he never does?"_

Naomi felt her throat close up at the thought...because based on what she had heard in Tim's voice, the alternative was dark indeed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The moaning brought Ducky out of a sound sleep and he sat up in the darkness trying to figure out where the sounds were coming from. Then, he heard a canine whimper and he remembered.

"Timothy."

Quickly, he got out of bed, thumped down the stairs and into the spare room where Tim was tossing and turning, mumbling, his breathing erratic. Jethro was whining, front paws on the edge of the bed.

"Timothy! Wake up!" Ducky said, grabbing onto Tim's shoulders to stop his flailing arms.

Tim's eyes opened, but he wasn't seeing Ducky.

"Keep away! Don't touch me!" he shouted.

"Wake _up_, Timothy!"

Tim sat up in bed, roughly shoving Ducky away from him before he suddenly did as Ducky had ordered. He was on the edge of hyperventilating as he looked around, obviously confused about his surroundings.

"Timothy, are you all right?"

Tim blinked and looked at Ducky.

"Ducky?"

"Yes."

"What...what are you doing here?"

Ducky smiled. "It is my home. I believe I have the right to be in my own home at..." He looked at the clock. "...at four in the morning."

"_Your_...home?" Tim looked around again. "What? ...how...I..."

Tim's confusion was not ebbing. It seemed to be increasing.

"You are in my house in Georgetown, Timothy," Ducky said. "Don't you remember coming here?"

Confusion was taking precedence over everything else for the moment...and that made Tim honest.

"I...I don't...I don't know how...why..." He started shaking again.

Ducky reached out to comfort him.

"Don't touch me...Ducky...please, don't touch me."

"Very well. Do you remember what happened to bring you to my front porch?"

Tim started to shake his head but then stopped mid-motion. "How long have I been here?"

"I'm not sure. It was nine in the evening when I arrived. It is now four a.m."

"I have to go back!" Tim said, suddenly trying disentangle himself from the blankets. "I have to go! I...I don't know...if...if I turned on the alarm! I'm supposed to be house sitting for Matt!"

This time, Ducky did restrain Tim, going so far as to push him back down onto the bed.

"No, Timothy. You need to stay here, at least for the rest of the night."

The anger returned, although not as strongly as Ducky might have expected.

"Don't tell me what to do. You can't order me around."

"I'm not trying to. Timothy, you came to me. I am worried about you. Let me help. You asked me to keep you safe. That's what I'm trying to do."

"Jethro! Is he–?"

At the sound of his name, Jethro jumped up and barked.

"He was with you. Timothy, did you drive here? I didn't see your car."

"I didn't...I must have taken a taxi."

"What happened?"

Tim closed his eyes, still shaking.

"M-My shower...The shower...it exploded."

"Exploded?"

Tim's eyes flew open. "I'm not lying! That's what happened! I...I wasn't...I didn't do anything! It just...exploded."

"What happened after that?"

"I don't remember...I just...I wanted to..."

"Feel safe."

Tim nodded. "But I need to go back. I can't let anything happen to Matt's place while I'm gone!"

"Do you think anything will?"

"It doesn't matter! It's my responsibility!" Tim again tried to get up. Ducky again held him down.

"Timothy, listen to me!"

"I don't have to!"

"No, you don't, but please do."

"Let go of me," he said, an unsettling edge in his voice.

Ducky did so but didn't move away.

"Very well, but listen to me, Timothy. What you need to do is sleep for the rest of the night and then in the morning we can go back to your friend's home and see what there is to see."

"But Ducky–!"

"You're flushed, shaking and barely out of the altered state that brought you to my door. Timothy, you need to rest...not because I'm forcing you to do so but because your own body _knows_ that's what it needs."

Tim stopped trying to get up. "I wish..." He trailed off. "I'm tired."

"Then, sleep, lad. Your friend's home will keep until morning."

Ducky watched the tension ease from Tim's body and he judged it safe to approach again. Gently, he eased Tim back down onto the bed. Tim began to shiver.

"I'm cold."

"Easily remedied. I have many extra blankets." Ducky walked to the closet and opened it, noting that Tim jumped at the sound of the door opening and closing. "Here's an afghan. It should do the trick. Now, just rest. Don't worry. You came here to be safe and you are."

Tim's eyes began to droop, but there was fear still. Fear, not anger.

"Ducky?"

"Yes, lad?"

It seemed like it was hard for him to get the words out, as if he was fighting against himself to make the request. "Would you stay...just for a...just until I'm asleep?"

"Certainly."

Tim closed his eyes. He didn't say thank you or anything. His eyes closed and he went to sleep. Ducky, however, remained awake...even after Jethro finally settled down and slept as well. He watched Tim as his body relaxed...and then began to tense up.

"It's all right, Timothy. You're safe," he whispered, placing a gentle hand on Tim's forehead.

Tim subsided back into a deeper sleep. He lasted for about half an hour and then he started to shift and moan. Again, Ducky leaned forward and soothed him back to sleep, away from whatever he was facing in his subconscious mind.

...and yet, no more than fifteen minutes later, Tim was tossing and turning, fretting in his sleep. Ducky was surprised that it was happening so often in one night. If this was what normally happened to Tim, then Ducky had a nasty suspicion that Tim was facing more challenges than the anger toward his former coworkers. There was a deeper problem.

"No! NO!" Tim shouted, shifting from an apparently peaceful sleep to total panic in record time.

Jethro awakened and whined as Tim began tossing and turning...fighting his demons.

Ducky quickly sat on the edge of the bed and placed one arm around the struggling young man. Then, he began smooth back the hair on Tim's head, trying to calm him down without waking him up.

"It's all right, Timothy. You have nothing to fear."

He kept up the soft litany. Tim never woke up, but his terror eased and he slipped, once more, into the deeper sleep, away from the dreams. If this was what he dealt with every night, what could have been so terrifying that it disconnected his brain? Or had something like this happened before? Ducky sighed even as Tim relaxed. They did need to go back to that house...if only so that Ducky could see what had actually happened.

"Oh, Timothy."

Ducky stayed there the rest of the night, calming the night terrors when they began, watching when Tim was peaceful. At around six a.m., an idea came to him. It was born, not out of his training, but out of a desperate need for help dealing with someone he didn't want to see ruined. He dismissed the idea of calling anyone at NCIS, even those such as Abby and Vance, against whom Tim bore no ill will...even they would carry a stigma. It had to be a stranger, someone wholly disconnected from everything that had happened...Tim might listen to a person like that.

Leaving Tim alone, Ducky crept out of the room and dialed an international number, an old friend from London. The call didn't take long, but by the time he returned to Tim, he was forced to soothe away another nightmare.

"Your whole life is a nightmare right now, isn't it, lad," Ducky said softly.

Tim didn't respond.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Tim stayed asleep, but Ducky was forced, finally, to get some sleep himself. He had slept for a few hours before Tim's first outburst, but he needed more than that. Poor Jethro probably needed more sleep than he was getting, too, but Ducky wasn't sure he could get him out of the room. It was late enough that going upstairs seemed like a waste of time; so he walked to his living room and stretched out on the couch, hoping that he could get at least an hour.

Sleep came almost instantly.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

When he awoke, he was relieved to note that it was still quiet in the house...but then, he sighed. As nice as it was to let Tim have the sleep he probably hadn't been getting for weeks, possibly months, he had a suspicion that the majority of mornings had begun in fear, and it might be just as valuable to allow Tim the chance to wake up due to it being morning rather than due to the nightmares that held so much horror for him.

Decision made, Ducky got up off the couch and winced a little. He definitely couldn't make that his normal sleeping space. As he walked down the hallway, Ducky yawned and listened for any sound of Tim becoming disturbed again. There was none. Dare he hope that Tim was still asleep?

He poked his head in the door. The bed was empty...but a moment of anxiety brought his head around and he saw Tim sitting on the window seat, staring out at the small garden in the back. There was no anger in the way he was sitting. There was tension, yes, but not anger. His face was turned away and Ducky couldn't see his expression, but he would guess that it wasn't a happy one. He rather thought that Tim had probably been miserable for a long time.

He cleared his throat softly and Tim jumped with uncalled-for surprise.

"It was so quiet that I thought you would still be asleep."

Tim's head turned toward him and he wore a sardonic smile. "I don't always wake up screaming, Ducky."

"Does that mean your sleep was pleasant?"

Tim laughed briefly. It wasn't pleasant to hear. "I didn't say that."

"Well, it is Sunday morning, like it or not."

"I don't," Tim muttered.

"Why don't you prepare yourself for the day? I would wager that you'd like to avoid a shower for the time being."

Tim _almost_ smiled.

"I have a half bath downstairs that you may use. I'll go and make breakfast."

"Not hungry."

"That does not surprise me in the least. However, your body's physical requirements have likely not changed regardless of your current appetite."

Tim stood up. "I'm not a _child_, Ducky. You don't have to treat me like one."

Ducky forced himself to smile and chuckle. "Perhaps not, but in comparison to my age..."

Tim smiled reluctantly.

"I'll feed Jethro while you get ready. Then, we can eat breakfast and head out to your friend's home. See what we can see."

"I already _know_ what we'll see. I saw it before," Tim said resentfully.

"But I have not...and you yourself admitted to not remembering everything...unless you have regained your memory of how you got to my home and how long you were sitting here before I arrived."

Unwillingly, Tim shook his head.

"All right, then. You go on. Come into the kitchen when you're ready. Jethro?"

Jethro leapt to his feet and barked happily. He followed Ducky out of the room and into the kitchen.

"Well, my canine friend, I hope you don't mind a repeat of your meal last night."

Jethro began to dance in anticipation. Ducky chuckled, genuinely amused this time, and poured dog food into the bowl.

"There you are, Jethro. Have at it, as they say."

Jethro did as ordered and was shortly eating so eagerly that he was pushing the bowl around.

"Plenty more where that came from. Don't rush."

Jethro barked again and then kept eating. Ducky took pains to pet him as he ate before beginning to make breakfast. Already the dog's tail was higher and his ears perked up, twitching back and forth in rhythm as he ate.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim glared at his reflection. He couldn't believe what he'd done. He couldn't believe he'd come to Ducky for help. It was embarrassing. It was _humiliating_ that a small fright had completely disconnected his brain. Try as he might, he couldn't pull up any firm memories of the day before. In fact, the exploding shower wasn't as certain in his mind as he had claimed. He _thought_ that was what had happened, but he couldn't swear to it. He did know that he hadn't been anywhere near the shower door...which did make him wonder how he'd cut himself so badly.

_What did I do?_

The small cuts on his face were one thing. His arm was another...and he didn't know. He honestly didn't know. How could he admit that kind of a lapse? How could he confess that weakness? Could he pretend that he'd been closer to the shower...but still not close enough to have caused the explosion...or whatever it had been?

_How could I have left like that? How could I have done that? What a weakling. A stupid, scrawny weakling who can't even handle taking care of himself. He has to run to someone else to do it for him. Wuss. Stupid._

He shook his head and then splashed water on his face. He hated that he had been so easily spooked...and that Ducky didn't seem fooled in the slightest by his attempts to present a strong facade. It was hard to be strong when you were screaming in your sleep.

_Yeah, baby. Scared of bad dreams just like a little child._

Tim took a deep breath, determined not to let Ducky fool him like everyone else had. Ducky might be pretending to care now, but deep down, he was just like the others. He'd get a ride back to Matt's house and that would be the end of it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky smiled when Tim came into the kitchen...although Tim's expression was anything but happy and kind. He had closed himself off to the point that he almost looked blank...except his eyes. Tim's eyes were alive...but with suspicion and fear. He was under much better control than he had been, but he couldn't stop the instinct to watch for danger. He couldn't stop the slight shaking. Ducky could see how badly off Tim actually was...just from a physical standpoint. His body was on the verge of collapse...and apparently his mind had already done so at least once.

However, when he spoke, he didn't say any of that.

"Timothy, you can see that Jethro has quite the headstart on you. Have a seat." He gestured toward the small table. "Nothing exciting, I'm afraid, but I hope it is tolerable."

Tim's smile was thin. "I'm really not hungry."

"Yes, so you said. Humor me if you would."

"Why should I?" Tim asked coldly.

Ducky looked at him and said mildly, "Because you are a guest in my home."

As he had hoped, Tim stumped over to the table and sat down. He stared at the oatmeal with obvious distaste but said nothing. Instead, he began to eat. Slowly, to be sure, but he ate. Ducky had crammed as much as he could into the bowl of oatmeal. Banana chunks, raisins, milk, the oatmeal. It was all very tastefully done, but what it really had become was Ducky's attempt to get Tim to eat a square meal. Ducky had exactly the same thing, fearing that Tim would refuse to eat a meal that was drastically different.

"I can't eat any more, Ducky," Tim said after about ten silent minutes.

Ducky noted, with some dismay that the bowl was barely half empty...but he also knew that there was a risk of overloading Tim's system. If he'd been eating as badly as Ducky suspected, it was possible that Tim really _couldn't_ eat any more and to force him to eat more could lead to Tim losing all the benefit of the meal.

Ducky smiled. "Very well. Should I act paternal and tell you to drink all your juice?"

Almost against his will it seemed, Tim let out a short laugh. It didn't last long, but there had been a moment of genuine humor.

"I can manage that, I think," he said and drained his glass with a small flourish...almost like his old self.

"Excellent," Ducky said, smiling. "Now, we have but to clean up the dishes and we can be on our way."

Jethro padded over and put his head on Tim's knee before he could stand. He looked mournfully up into Tim's eyes, dragging another reluctant smile onto Tim's face.

"Good morning, Jethro," Tim said softly.

Ducky stood and carried his bowl and Tim's over to the sink as Tim carefully pet Jethro on the head, almost as if he'd forgotten how. Ducky hoped that he had shown more affection to the dog than he was at the moment. However, based on Jethro's exuberance at even Ducky's attention, he felt fairly certain that Tim had not been doing much.

Tim almost smiled as Jethro jumped up and licked his face. Ducky let them stay where they were as he quickly rinsed out the bowls and loaded his dishwasher. It normally took a few meals for it to be worth running, but he had to admit that it was nice to have.

"All right, shall we go?" he asked.

Tim stood up quickly. "Yes. Let's go. Now."

Ducky nodded and led them out, privately hoping for something positive to come out of this meeting. He himself had given up on Tim ever wanting to see any of them again. That there was a desire somewhere deep inside him was a small spark of promise for better things.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Your friend has a lovely spot, Timothy," Ducky said when they arrived an hour later. The ride over had been nearly silent.

"Yeah, he does. I guess that's what happens when you enjoy an occupation that makes you rich."

Ducky glanced sideways at the minor undercurrent of resentment in Tim's voice.

"Should we go inside?"

"Why not?" Tim sighed and got out of the car and started to walk into the house without looking back.

Ducky got out quickly, Jethro right behind. Tim led him inside up the stairs and to the bedroom...where he stopped, clearly reluctant to go any further.

"This is your room, Timothy?"

"Yes."

Ducky looked around. There was a bloody towel on the floor...and blood on the sheets, although not much. There was a strange sensation in the room, almost a darkened aura to it...if one believed in such things.

"Well?" he asked.

"In there," Tim said, pointing to the open door to the bathroom.

Ducky saw that Tim had no intention of going in; so he walked forward. The shower had been glass, one without a frame, just the glass walls and metal brackets. It was a fancy shower...or it had been. Now, where there had been a shower, there were pieces of glass strewn all over the bathroom. Ducky crouched down and examined the glass. There was no sign of any fire, no sign of smoke. ...but the pattern was such that the glass was everywhere. It really was like an explosion without a bomb.

"Timothy?"

"What?" There was that sullen voice again.

"Would you come in here, please? Show me where you were standing?"

"No."

Ducky walked back to the bedroom. Tim was pulling the bloody sheets off the bed.

"Timothy, what are you doing?"

"I have to clean up. I can't leave it like this."

"Certainly not, but now?"

"I have to clean up." He stopped and looked at Ducky. "I'm not going back in there."

There was something in his eyes, something frightening. Ducky couldn't define it. If asked why it frightened him, he wouldn't be able to articulate it, but Timothy was dangerous right now. Jethro obviously sensed it as well. He had retreated to the corner of the room, head down...waiting until it was safe again.

"Timothy?"

Then, in an abrupt shift, Tim threw down the sheets and stomped over to the bathroom.

"Fine! I will! I was here!" he said, almost shouting. "I was standing right here! I forgot to close the door! I was going back to close it! It blew up! It exploded!" He shook his head, looking frightened...but still dangerous...and his voice changed yet again. "I tried to fix it. I tried...but I couldn't. Too many pieces. Too many pieces...all over the floor. I couldn't put them back. I tried."

He knelt down and Ducky noticed that the blood on the floor corresponded to an area with a strangely arranged area of broken glass. ...as if someone had tried to put the pieces back together...to repair the damage. Tim, in his blackout or whatever it had been, had tried to put the shattered glass back together...had probably picked up shards, perhaps even cradled them in his arm in his desire to make amends...as he saw it. Suddenly, Ducky was ten times more worried about Tim's mental state. What was there to be done about this? He heard a soft whine from Jethro in the other room.

As he stared at the scene, Tim bent over and, once again, began picking up pieces of glass.

"Timothy, no! You can't fix this. We'll have to get an expert."

Suddenly, Tim was angry again. "What? I'm not good enough? I'm not smart enough? I can't _handle _it?" He stood up. "You're all the same! You don't think I can do anything right! ...but I _can_! I _can_!" He pounded on the bathroom sink with a clenched fist. "I _am_ good enough! ...if you'd only _let_ me be!"

"Timothy," Ducky said, laughing because he couldn't think of any other reaction, "you're not a plumber to my knowledge. You don't have to know everything...and you _don't_. We all make mistakes and we all have gaps."

Tim was glaring at him, just long enough for Ducky to worry...but then, his eyes widened and he ran past Ducky. Before he could react, he heard Tim pounding down the stairs and through the hall.

"Jethro, where is he going?"

Jethro whimpered and then leapt to his feet and followed. Ducky saw no other alternative but to do the same. Down the steps, through the hallway...and out to a large backyard with a pool beside a back patio. Tim was on his knees beside the pool. There were some leaves and grass clippings floating there...and strangely, a few dead frogs. Tim was staring at the pool, looking absolutely horrified.

"Timothy, what's wrong?"

"I forgot to put in the pool cleaner," Tim whispered.

"Surely one day won't be detrimental," Ducky said reasonably, trying to force Tim away from this breakdown he seemed to be suffering and back into the world of reality.

Tim turned to Ducky, shaking his head. "No! You _don't_ understand! I _forgot_! I didn't put it in! The frogs...they drown in the pool! I can't stop them! I can't keep them from coming! I have to put in the cleaner so they go away! They come every night!"

"Can you not simply put it in now?"

"No! It has to be done at night! It has to be done right! In the right order. At the right time. ...and I didn't! I screwed up! I failed! People die when I fail! _I_ could die when I fail."

Before Ducky could stop him, Tim jumped into the pool and began grabbing for the dead frogs. Jethro began barking loudly. Ducky watched with growing alarm at Tim's manic flailing around the pool...fully-clothed no less. He seemed to have no ability to find a happy medium. It was either absolute perfection or total failure. As Tim splashed to the shallow end, Ducky suppressed a sigh and climbed in himself. He waded over to Tim as he tried to pick up one of the dead frogs.

"Timothy, stop."

"No! I have to fix it! I have to! They're stupid enough to die...just like Jewel was... but I have to fix it! I can't let them stay in here! Everyone will see!"

Ducky grabbed Tim by both arms and shook him.

"Timothy! _Look _at yourself! Look at what you're doing! This is _not_ fixing anything! You're only making it worse!"

Soaking wet from head to toe, dead frogs in both hands, breathing heavily, Tim finally stopped. He looked at Ducky for a long time without speaking. Judging that he might be able to reach Tim, even slightly, Ducky tried one more time to penetrate the barriers Tim had so handily erected.

"Timothy, stop this madness. Let me help you fix the problem."

When he spoke, Tim's voice was totally different. "Am...am I in...trouble...Ducky?"

Ducky blinked in surprise. "No, lad. You're not in trouble."

"...but I forgot..."

Ducky swallowed at the extremity he was confronting. He spoke gently. "It was an honest mistake and easily rectified."

The dead frogs fell from Tim's hands, making small splooshing sounds as they hit the water, and Tim began to sob, arms at his sides, hands clenching into fists. His head dropped and he began shaking with violent sobs. Shocked by the abrupt shift, Ducky released Tim's arms and stared at him as he wept. Slowly, worried that Tim's sudden mood swings might bring him back around to anger again, Ducky carefully put his arms around Tim and hugged him.

"I c-c-can't make...m-mistakes. Th-that's how...how they k-k-kill you."

"Oh, Timothy. I'm sorry," Ducky said. How could any of them have expected this? Or should they have realized that Tim was liable to come to the conclusion that he couldn't make any mistakes? Did it matter now? ...now that Tim seemed to be falling farther and farther into insanity?

...could he get out?


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

It was Sunday morning. For the last few weeks, that had meant one thing for Tony and Ziva: A drive-by. The car slowed down as Matt's house came into view. They looked avidly to see if Tim was there, was okay.

"Wait a second," Tony said. "Isn't that Ducky's car?"

Ziva leaned forward. Tony was driving this week.

"It must be. How many people drive those old cars?"

Tony grinned. "More than you probably are thinking..." His brow furrowed. "...but Gibbs said McGee didn't want anyone showing up unless invited."

"Perhaps Ducky _was_ invited."

"Well, if he was...why didn't he tell _us_?"

"I do not know, perhaps because it was not our business?"

"It _is_ our business! He knows we've been making sure McGee is okay...or trying to."

"Yes, but that does not mean he has to tell us _everything_."

"I wish we could see what was going on."

"If Ducky is there, then we do not have to worry. He is not one who has made the mistakes we did. McGee does not hate him."

"Actually...considering all the stuff McGee did, I'm more worried about Ducky."

"You are the only one he punched, Tony."

"...yeah, and he said he wished he hadn't saved us."

"That is a far cry from actually attacking us. You know that Ducky will not say something as inappropriate as you."

"Thanks, Ziva," Tony said.

"Let us go, Tony. There is nothing more to be seen here. I, for one, feel better knowing that McGee has at least contacted _someone_."

"Yeah..."

Reluctantly, Tony sped up, driving down to the space where they could turn around and head back to DC.

"Do you think he's called Abby?" he asked.

"No. She would have told us."

"Yeah...even if just to gloat."

Abby was another problem. She tried to treat them as she had before and it was clear that she wasn't _really_ angry at them anymore...but there was a strain there because she did blame them for Tim's leaving. It meant less time spent in each other's company, especially outside of work hours. In fact, the only person who seemed unaffected by Tim's departure from NCIS was Gibbs, the one who had been on the receiving end of the worst of Tim's wrath. How much he just wasn't saying hadn't been clear, but he acted as he always did.

That, in turn, had put something of a division between him and Tony and Ziva who both were more or less of the same mind: they had, whether directly or indirectly, caused Tim to quit. They had dropped the ball and if anything happened to Tim in his current state, it would be their fault...which was why they kept driving past the house. Sometimes, they caught glimpses of him outside or through the windows. It was enough, at least, to tell them that Tim was alive and physically capable. More than that, they didn't know and couldn't know, not without breaking Tim's firm injunction.

One last pass by the house.

"Ducky is there," Ziva said. "McGee will be fine with him."

"Yeah...I hope so."

They drove away.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat listlessly on the edge of the pool, watching as the cleaner did its job. The frogs were already taken care of. They had all been right there; so when Tim had finally gotten a hold of himself, he had picked them up and thrown them out.

He could hear, faintly, Ducky inside, talking to Matt on the phone, telling him about the shower...and no doubt, about Tim's uncertain mental state.

He laughed bitterly and shook his head. It hadn't taken long to demonstrate that. It hadn't taken long at all. He was clearly nuts. Maybe the next thing he knew he'd be streaking down the road. ...or maybe he'd decide he was a frog and go and live in the marsh. That was the kind of thing crazy people did, right?

Gibbs would have a field day with this news, of course. So would Tony and Ziva. It would prove that they were right. Tim really _was_ a total wreck and he couldn't handle doing his...former job. They would celebrate that they were right and he was wrong.

"Timothy?"

Tim jumped. He didn't know why he was always startled when someone spoke to him...but he couldn't control that fear.

"You still here, Ducky?" he said.

"Of course."

Tim laughed again, staring at the pool. "You sure you want to be? I might be a dangerous nutcase. I'm surprised you haven't already run home."

"Do you think I should?"

Tim hated his reasonable tone. "Of course. I'm obviously a loony. In fact, you should probably take Jethro with you. He's not very happy here."

"Are you?"

"I'm not trying to be happy."

"Yes, I know. I can see that much."

"So...why are _you_ still here?"

"Because I'm concerned about you."

"I'm fine."

He heard Ducky laugh.

"You think I'm lying?"

"I _know_ you are, Timothy. You are totally aware that you are _not_ fine. You may not _care_, but you know."

"What do you want, Ducky?"

"I'd like for you to talk to someone...an old friend of mine."

"I'm not talking to a shrink, Ducky!" Tim said, feeling angry again...which was a relief.

"He's not a shrink."

"Who is he, then?"

"Someone I met many years ago. He's a detective in London. He specializes in undercover work, although the last few years he's merely been an instructor. He's coming here for a visit."

Tim laughed cynically. "And you just _happened_ to be getting a visit from a friend who knows about undercover work?"

"No. I called him and asked him to come, specifically to speak with you."

"What if I say no? You can't force me to talk to your friend."

"No, that's true. I can't. If you refuse then I will simply enjoy a visit from an old friend. We try to get together every year or so and it's been a while."

"Do you honestly think talking to him will help?"

"I think that it can't hurt you any more than you have already hurt yourself."

"What are you going to try to do, Ducky? Save me?" Tim asked sarcastically.

"If I can, lad."

Tim looked away from the pool and toward Ducky. For just a moment, he wanted to believe that Ducky meant it.

"Well, you can't. So give it up," he said finally. "I don't want to be saved."

"Then, what _do_ you want?"

"Nothing." Tim turned back to the pool. He stiffened when Ducky came and sat down beside him. "What?"

"I won't leave you here alone, Timothy."

"Why not? You worried what I might do?"

"Yes," Ducky said simply.

Tim gave Ducky a sidelong glance. He couldn't detect any insincerity. ...but it didn't mean it wasn't there.

"I think we made a mistake in allowing you to be alone for so long. I think you are suffering too much to deal with it on your own. ...and one night in your company tells me I'm right."

"Yeah, that's what you want. To be right...and me be wrong."

"No. What I want is to see you stop hurting yourself."

"I'm just doing what everyone wants, aren't I?" Tim said nastily. "Tony and Ziva wanted me to be Thomas. That's what I'm doing. ...and you can't tell me that they really want me back."

"As you are now? No, probably not."

Tim forced out another laugh. "Exactly. They say one thing and then when they get it, they backtrack...because they can never be wrong. I'm the one who messes up."

"Timothy, I..."

Tim smiled as Ducky stopped, seeming to give up.

"Will you talk to my friend?"

"Why should I?"

"For yourself."

"I don't care about myself, Ducky."

"Then, will you do it for the friends you still have?"

"Like who? You?"

"Yes. And your friend, Matthew and his wife. Abigail. Your family."

"You failed to mention the MCRT."

"I did. I don't think you consider them friends of yours at the moment."

"You're right! I don't," Tim said firmly.

"That is rather outside my question, however. Will you speak to my friend when he comes?"

"When will he be here?"

"Either late tonight or tomorrow morning. He said he would call when he was sure of his flight."

Tim didn't want to talk to anyone who was going to try and understand, who would try to tell him he was wrong. He really didn't want to...but for some reason, that's not what he said.

"Okay. Fine. Don't plan on it doing anything."

"I won't."

Tim got up, leaving Ducky where he was.

"Timothy?"

Tim whirled around. "Get this straight, Ducky. You're not here because I want you here. I don't want or need your help. I'm _allowing_ you to stay here because... I don't _know_ why, but you are not my father. You're not even a colleague anymore. You can't tell me what to do or what _not_ to do. Got it? It's _my_ life."

Ducky got up slowly and faced him. Tim noticed that his pants were still wet from when Ducky had joined him in the pool.

"I'm afraid, Timothy, that you are mistaken. It's _not_ your life anymore. I doubt that it _has_ been for a long time."

Tim tried to scoff at that, but he couldn't. Instead, he threw a question out.

"Then, whose is it?"

Ducky smiled sadly. "If I knew that, I could help you get it back...but I'm afraid, Timothy, that you've moved beyond what I can help myself. That is what frightens more than your anger."

"What?"

"That you may be beyond the reach of anyone...and you may be lost. I fear that you are on the road to self-destruction...whether through actual suicide or just through your own apathy. It doesn't matter the method. You will be lost regardless...and I don't want that. I don't want to see that happen to you...as it has to others."

"What if I do?"

"Then, I am full of pity as well as fear."

Ducky never moved his gaze from Tim's face...and it made Tim uncomfortable. He didn't want to be sucked in again.

"I guess the pity is mutual."

"Why is that?"

"You thinking that all this effort will do any good. I've been to therapy before. In order for change to happen, the person has to _want_ to change. I have no desire to go back to what I was before...and I don't care what that means for me. So I pity you for harboring any hope that you can help."

Tim turned around and stalked back into the house, glad to have the last word.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

James Oaks sat in Heathrow, waiting for his flight. He still had more than an hour before boarding began; so he pulled out his phone and called his friend.

"_This is Dr. Mallard."_

"Hey, Don. It's James."

"_You found a flight?"_

The short, actually absent greeting told James all he needed to know about Ducky's current state of mind. He was only terse when he was extremely worried.

"I'm in the airport now, just waiting for boarding to begin. Is it that bad?"

"_It's worse, I'm afraid. Timothy may be beyond saving."_

"It must be bad if _you're _giving up."

"_I'm not. I'm merely terrified that I'll have to."_

"And this is all from this man going undercover for six months?"

"_More or less...I think. Timothy doesn't _want_ to get help with what he knows is a dangerous mindset."_

"Don, there's nothing I can do if he doesn't want my help. I'm good, but there's no way I can make him do anything. You know that."

"_I'm hoping that there is a part of him, no matter how small, no matter how suppressed, that does want help. During his altered state, he came to me because he wanted to feel safe. If he truly wanted nothing more to do with the world, he would not have done that."_

"You're banking everything on his actions during a period that he can't even remember?"

"_Yes...and on desperate hope. James, I have...I can't explain to you how difficult it is to see this willful destruction. He wants to tear himself down. I don't know why. It's almost like he thinks that if he succeeds in destroying himself, he'll somehow...win."_

"Win what?"

"_I don't know. I really don't know."_

"If he's that badly off, why not just get him committed? From what you've described, I would wager that any judge would agree that he poses a danger to himself...and possibly others."

"_I'm sure I could...but with how deep his anger goes, I don't know that involuntary commitment would really help. You have no idea how stubborn Timothy can be."_

"You're pinning quite a lot on my visit, Don."

"_I'm not expecting miracles."_

"Yes, you are," James said, with a laugh. "Yes, you are, Don. You want me to come in there, wave my magic wand and fix your friend. It's not going to happen. I know about undercover work, but I don't know about psychology. He probably _needs _to be committed, you know."

"_I know. If I can just get him to...to feel that there is some value to trying to reclaim his life...I think he would commit himself."_

"You have a lot of faith in him."

"_In who he was...and who I hope he can be again. It may be too late...but I'm not willing to give him up without a fight."_

"Speaking of fighting, are you worried on that score? For yourself, I mean?"

"_No...or at least not to a large degree. I think he frightened himself slightly with his previous actions."_

"What did happen?"

"_So far as I can tell, exactly what he said: the shower seems to have exploded. I have the company who installed it coming to check it out in a few days. Until then, I suppose Timothy will have to use a different bathroom...not that I think that's a problem. This house is monstrous."_

"_Would United passenger James...Oaks, please come to the desk? James Oaks."_

"Oh, I'm being summoned, Don."

"_Call me when you get in. I'll pick you up from Dulles."_

"Will do. I hope I can do what you want, Don. I'm not sure I can."

"_All I ask is that you try."_

"That's all I can do. See you in a few hours, Don."

"_Have a safe flight."_

"Bye, Don."

James disconnected and shouldered his bag. He really did hope he could help, but it was a tall order. When a person decided to embrace a persona, no matter the degree, it was hard to convince them that it was a bad idea. ...and Tim seemed to have completely subsumed himself in it...with full knowledge of what he was doing, according to what Ducky said. That was different and that would be more difficult. Still, he would do his best...provided he could get there.

"Hello, I'm James Oaks. I was paged?"

As he spoke with the attendant, his mind was only half on the request that he change seats. Most of it was thinking about how he could approach someone who had been allowed an entire month of total solitude to solidify his anger.

It would be a task worthy of Heracles.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

James' flight landed at Dulles just after eleven. By the time he went through customs, picked up his bag and met Ducky, it was nearly midnight, although five hours later for him. They talked a lot of inconsequentials on the way back, but Tim was never far from their minds.

"Wow," James said with a low whistle. "His friend is well off."

"Yes. They seem to have done quite well for themselves."

"Well, let me see my new project."

They got out and headed inside.

"You won't like what you see, James."

"I've never seen him before, Don."

"I know. ...and you won't like what you see...but Timothy wasn't always like this. I hope you can remember that."

"I'll try. Where is he?"

"I'm not sure."

Then, they both heard the click of paws.

"Jethro?"

Soft bark in reply.

"Ah, yes. Where's Timothy?"

Jethro trotted into view, then gave another bark and turned back around.

"Oh, dear. He must be at the pool again. I do not understand his fascination with the frogs."

"Frogs?"

"Yes. They drown in the pool and they seem to be something of an unhealthy obsession to him."

"In his current state, I doubt there is much that is healthy."

"True enough. This way."

They walked through the kitchen and to the back door. There he was, sitting on a deck chair watching the pool. There was a small bit of splashing going on in one area. A frog was fighting to get to the wall and escape from the chlorinated water. Tim was staring, making no move to save the unfortunate amphibian...making no move at all, except for his eyes which occasionally flicked from the pool to the rest of the lawn and then back to the drowning frog.

Ducky sighed and then opened the door. Tim jumped and spun around to confront them.

"Oh, it's you," he said, flatly.

"Yes, Timothy. This is my friend, James Oaks."

Tim inclined his head slightly but made no other acknowledgment.

"Nice to meet you," James said, congenially.

"Right. He staying here?"

"He might as well, until our plans are decided...unless you have an objection?"

"Besides the fact that I don't want him..._or_ you here in the first place?"

"Yes, besides that."

Tim laughed. "No. No other objection."

"Are you going to stay out here all night?"

"What's it to you?"

Ducky didn't respond to the overt antagonism, forcing Tim to answer.

"I don't know. I won't check in if I decide to go to bed."

"See you in the morning," James said.

"Yeah, great." Tim turned back to the pool...where the splashing had stopped. The frog was dead.

James gave Ducky a look as they went in, but he didn't say anything until the door was closed.

"Well?" Ducky asked.

"I want to see the shower. Have you cleaned it up?"

"Not yet. I'm afraid I've had other concerns. This way."

"Don...how long ago did the operation end?" James asked as they headed up the stairs.

"Over a month."

He shook his head. "What did you people do? Don't you have policies about dealing with people?"

"We do. James, I don't think you have understood the time frame."

"Enlighten me because I don't understand what I'm seeing."

"The operation lasted for seven months, plus a month of preparation. It ended, Timothy came back, and quit before he'd been back for two days. He had a debriefing after which the psychiatrist recommended a full course of therapy, but he quit and it couldn't be enforced."

"Based on his quaint method of showing how much he cares, I'd guess that's part of the reason _why_ he quit."

"More than likely," Ducky said with a small smile. "But why did you ask about the operation? I told you once already the time frame."

"Because if I had come upon him and had to guess, I would have thought he'd only _just_ been out of undercover. He's too hypervigilant. It's an exhausting state, impossible to maintain for long periods of time."

"Well, he obviously has."

James smiled and shook his head. "No...I don't think so, but I do think I'm understanding more about why he isolated himself and what may have happened to him. Let's take a gander at the shower, shall we?"

"Certainly. It's right through there."

James nodded and walked into the wreckage. He looked around.

"He was in here when it...exploded?"

"Yes."

"He was lucky."

"Yes, I agree."

James knelt and examined the place where Tim had tried to reassemble the shards of glass.

"He did this?"

"Yes."

"Did he say why?"

"To fix it. He said he wanted to fix it."

"He's a perfectionist?"

"Oh, yes."

"Don...you all made a huge mistake in allowing him to dictate his isolation."

"I'm aware of that already."

"Not to the right degree."

"What do you mean?"

James got to his feet and gestured around the bathroom. "All this...it makes perfect sense when seen through the proper lens."

"Which is?"

"The lens of a person who has been deep undercover. Yes, his anger at his team has a lot to do with it, and it's certainly the most obvious outward manifestation, but that anger wouldn't have been as detrimental were it not coupled with the fact that he was deep undercover."

"Explain. I've seen undercover work before, you know."

"I know, but Timothy seems to have reacted like the worst I've ever seen before. He's...still undercover in a way."

"How are you getting that from the shower?"

"Let me put it to you in another way," James said. "Imagine that you are undercover, so deeply that you have perhaps _one_ place where you can safely let down your guard. One place only. You jealously guard that space, hoping to keep it under control, hoping to regulate everything within that space so that it never loses its sanctity. Like Timothy, you have nowhere else you feel you can turn to be yourself. You feel constantly on the edge of spiraling out of control. Everyone undercover for the long term feels that way to some degree. I would guess that Timothy felt it twenty fold...at least. Undercover, you know that at any moment, everything could come crashing down. That tension never eases, not completely, even in the safe space. Then, suddenly, it's over. You're supposed to go back to your life, but you can't. You can't rid yourself of the feeling of dread, of the feeling of being discovered. Instead, you try to duplicate the circumstances of that safe space you had. You're always on the lookout for someone coming after you, but you can't maintain that level of awareness. It's exhausting."

"Timothy has."

"No, Don. He hasn't. Can't you see it? Part of the reason for Timothy's insistence on total isolation is his need to control his environment. He knows he can't control people. He can barely control himself. So he gets rid of all human interaction as a way of gaining complete control. His anger only makes it easier to cut off those ties. He has no regrets. He has safety."

"He said he wanted to be safe."

"Precisely. Think about it. What if you had been standing in the bathroom when your shower inexplicably exploded? You would have been frightened, perhaps even momentarily terrified until you realized that you were all right. That's a healthy reaction. Timothy is not healthy, not in any sense. He has obsessively distilled his life down to himself and, to a slight degree, his dog. Everything else is lifeless with the idea that he can control it. He feels safe. Then, suddenly...suddenly with one explosion, he is shown that he is _not_ safe in this one place he thought he had completely controlled. It's _not_ in his control. It's _not_ safe. It's dangerous. It could kill him. He is confronted anew with his mortality, with the fact that he could be killed at any moment and it pushes him right back into the feelings he battled during his undercover operation. It overloads a mind that can't take it and he temporarily shuts down, goes into autopilot...to the one place he feels he can be safe. Why you? I don't know, but he needed somewhere to go and, if you really want him saved, you should thank your lucky stars that's his reaction...not the alternative."

Ducky was silent for a long moment digesting what James had said.

"You got all of this from speaking with him for one minute and looking at the bathroom?"

"I don't know the details, but Timothy is hardly the first person to have a problem with undercover work. His anger and hatred toward his team are added fillips to a bad situation, but a situation I've seen before...have _gone_ through before, truth be told."

"Knowing all this...can he be helped?"

"Is it possible? Yes...but not here. I'm no psychiatrist, and while I can help with his reactions to his undercover work, I can see that he needs a lot more than either of us can give, no matter how well-intentioned we might be. What he needs is to acknowledge that his mind is broken."

"I know."

"Can he do that? Maybe. Some can't. Some cling so desperately to the persona that they can't let it go. It destroys them, even if they keep on living. It ruins their lives. Timothy seems to be trying to do just that. I don't know if he's willing to let it go. I _won't_ know until I speak with him...and maybe not even then."

"We can only try."

"Yes. Exactly."

"Well...would you like to see your room?"

James smiled. "I'm exhausted, Don. I'd love to have a bed. You'll be working tomorrow?"

"Yes. I hope that's not a problem."

"Not at all. In fact, it might be better for Timothy and I to speak alone rather than with your kind...but interfering presence."

Ducky laughed. "To the point as always, James. This way."

James clapped a kind hand on Ducky's shoulder. "Don't give up just yet, Don. I'll do my best."

"I know."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim watched the pool all night long.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Ducky was surprised that Tim didn't wake him up at all during the night. He himself was tired enough that he slept straight through until the sun shone in eyes the next morning. He sat up and looked around.

_Timothy couldn't still be outside..._

Even as he thought it, he knew that was where Tim would be. He hated that he knew it, and he hated that he would have to leave Tim to James' care. James was capable, possibly more capable than the rest of them, but still, Ducky wanted to be able to do something more than he had for Tim. Just looking at him was painful.

With a sigh, he got out of bed and got himself ready for the day. Routine completed, he went down to the kitchen and saw that Tim was asleep on the deck chair by the pool. Not wanting to leave him for James to deal with asleep, Ducky walked out to the pool. Tim hadn't started yelling, but there was a tension to his body that said he wasn't enjoying whatever he was currently experiencing.

"Timothy, it's morning," he said.

At the touch of Ducky's hand on his arm, Tim was awake, looking around for the danger...until his eyes rested on Ducky and reflected a brief moment of pure terror...then, that was covered by the disdain again.

"Hello," he said. That was all.

"Good morning, Timothy."

"Not likely."

"At least it is no longer night."

"There is that."

"James is still sleeping upstairs. His body clock will most likely be readjusting to the time difference. He'll take care of himself."

"What? You let people do that?"

Ducky winced inside, but all he did was smile. "When they can."

Tim said nothing but looked away. It amazed Ducky how sometimes the simplest statements seemed to utterly defeat Tim's ability to fight back...and yet the clear logical arguments held no power to make him see what he was doing to himself and why it was wrong.

"I'll be back this evening."

Tim didn't look back, but his words didn't have their usual sting.

"You say that like it's a good thing."

"I'd like to think it was."

"What if I don't want you to come back?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to force me out this time."

"What happened to what _I_ want?"

"When you actually know what that is, you can let me know."

A long silence.

"I'll see you tonight, Timothy."

No response. Ducky suppressed a sigh and left for work.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The same dull silence reigned in the bullpen...until the elevator doors opened and revealed Ducky. Instantly, both Tony and Ziva jumped up.

"Ducky!"

"Yes?" he asked, seeming tired.

"How's McGee?" Tony asked. "Is he okay?"

"Did he call you?" Ziva asked. "We saw your car at his friend's house."

Ducky's smile was more than a little sad.

"He is not...okay, Anthony. He didn't call me. He showed up at my house almost in a trance on Saturday night."

A moment of silence greeted his pronouncement.

"What happened?" Tony asked.

"I'm still not sure...because he doesn't remember himself."

"Is he still angry with us?" Ziva asked.

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"It's been more than a month! He hasn't mellowed at all?"

"Not a bit." Ducky looked over at Gibbs who hadn't even raised his head...although Ducky was certain he was listening to them. "I'm afraid it's only gotten worse."

"How much worse could it get?"

"Much worse. In fact, I'll be staying with him for the next few days."

"He is letting you?" Ziva asked in surprise.

"He doesn't want me there, but he has not yet resorted to physical attacks."

"You think he will?"

"He may...if sufficiently provoked. He has little control over himself at the moment."

Gibbs stood up to leave. Ducky, feeling a fraction of the frustration Tim must have felt, stormed over and blocked his way. He then continued speaking to Tony and Ziva, but looking at Gibbs the entire time. Jamie was watching the exchange, unsure of how to react. Her eyes kept shifting from Ducky and Gibbs to Tony and then to Ziva and back again.

"Timothy's mind is breaking down. If it falls apart, his body may follow and he may be lost forever."

"Is it that bad, Ducky?" Ziva asked.

"Yes," Ducky said, still staring at Gibbs. "It could be worse. He has not seen fit to explain himself to me."

"Ducky, I have a meeting."

"...that cannot wait to hear how Timothy is doing?"

"He's not on my team anymore. He's not my concern, Ducky. He already made that clear."

Ducky stood aside.

"Strange, but I would have _thought_ that your concern for someone you have known for more than seven years would extend beyond your responsibilities as his supervisor. I would have _thought_ that you might harbor some feelings of concern for him as an acquaintance, or heaven help me, a friend. Perhaps I was mistaken."

Gibbs said nothing but continued on his way. Ducky watched him go and then walked to the elevator that would take him down to Autopsy.

He looked back at Tony and Ziva who were both standing in near shock at the sudden anger Ducky had expressed. He thought about saying something to comfort them but let the doors close instead. What a tragedy that so many were being torn apart by something that had, more than likely, been preventable.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

James watched Tim empty out the pool cleaner. His obsession with the drowning frogs was weird. There was no other word for it. Every person experienced a bad undercover operation differently because every person was different. Tim's had been colored and corrupted by hatred and anger. Ducky had given what information he could, but James rather thought that most of the explanation was still inside Tim's head. He geared himself up for what was going to be a long and exhausting day for the both of them. ...and physically, it could be dangerous for him. At 57 years, he was younger than Ducky, but no spring chicken. However, his years of undercover work had kept him in good shape and he had been determined to stay fit for as long as possible. On the other hand, Tim was two steps away from a total physical collapse. It showed in how he moved, in the lines on his face, the obvious missing flesh from a body that had once had too much of it.

His mind could be even closer to collapsing, and that meant danger...for both of them. He wasn't sure if he should be trying to _repair_ the mind or guiding it through to full collapse and then out the other side. Either path could work...or could fail. It depended on the person involved.

"Good morning, Timothy," he said, speaking as he purposely made a lot of noise coming out onto the patio. As he had expected, Tim jumped. He saw the fear that he expected and then that fear was subsumed beneath his hatred of the world at large.

"Between you and Ducky, I feel like I've been transported to England."

James smiled at the overt animosity and purposefully crafted a convincing American accent. "I can talk like an American, if you'd prefer that. What area of the country would you like me to be from? I can go with a stereotypical Southern drawl or New York...or even that Midwestern accent that could be from any one of more than a dozen states."

"You're not an American. Why pretend?"

"Why indeed?" he asked, letting his regular speech come back out.

"Are you just showing off?"

"Maybe. I was trying to let you feel more comfortable."

"Then, leave."

James laughed. "You'd like that, wouldn't you. Then, you could go back to flipping off the world for ignoring you."

"It's not like that," Tim said, putting down the pool cleaner with unnecessary force.

"What's it like, then?"

"None of your business! I didn't ask you to come here! Ducky did."

"Nevertheless, you agreed."

"To get him to shut up about it."

"That's the only reason?"

"Yes."

"Then, you're more of a fool than I thought before."

"A fool?" Tim asked. "Why?"

"Because in your desire to thumb your nose at everyone, you're doing exactly what they think you'd do. You're ruining your own life. Why would they have to try and do it for you?"

Tim didn't respond. He started to walk back to his chosen deck chair. James followed him, constantly on alert. He could see that Tim was already on the verge of attacking him, just to get him to go away. It wouldn't take much more.

"How long are you going to try and keep this up, Timothy? Why won't you acknowledge the idiocy of what you're doing? What do you expect to gain?"

"Shut up. It's none of your business."

"It's become my business. The moment you agreed to speak to me it became my business and as long as I'm here, that's what I'm going to do. You'll have to deal with it."

No response.

"What is in your nightmares, Timothy? What frightens you so much that you awaken screaming...or spend your nights watching poor defenseless creatures die? Why are you embracing a persona hated by everyone? What are you–?"

James was forced to stop his questions because Tim suddenly turned and tried to punch him in the face. Luckily, James was ready for that move and since Tim was functioning at a significantly lower level than he would normally be, it was a simple matter to catch his arm, twist it around behind his back and force him face-down on the deck chair, knee in Tim's back, while Tim began to writhe against his sudden helplessness.

"Let me go!" he shouted. The hatred was beginning to be replaced by fear. "You hear me? Let me go!"

"I don't think so," James said with a laugh. "You tried to punch me, Timothy. Why would I let you go? I gave you no threat and you responded with an attempt of physical violence. Why should I leave myself open to further attacks?"

"Let me go!"

"No."

Tim began to swear. Loudly. Creatively. He strained against James' hands.

"Stop that! I'm not hurting you."

"Let me go!"

"I won't. Not unless you promise me you won't try to take me down again."

There was a pause and then Tim resumed his useless struggle to get free.

"Let me go!" he shouted again.

"No. I told you. I won't unless you give me a guarantee."

More swearing, more struggling.

"Hey! Stop that! You're not going to get free unless I loosen my grip and let you go, and I'm not going to do that. You brought this on yourself, and I'm not going to do what you want me to do."

"You're just like everyone else!" Tim screamed. "You just want to try and beat me down! You want me to look like a fool!"

"No, I want to know that you won't act like an animal." James watched Tim struggle. It was almost sad because it was clear that he wasn't used to being so comparatively weak. "You're currently lying with your face shoved into a floral-printed cushion. I don't see how much more foolish you could look...and there's no one here to see it except me...and no reason for me to publish this for the world to see."

"Let me go!"

"You can repeat your demand all you like. I can sit here all day. Will you promise to behave yourself like the rational human being you used to be?"

"Let me go!"

"No. Here's the deal, Timothy. You promise that you will behave yourself and promise to have a civilized chat with me, and I'll allow you to sit up again. You will have to compromise. If you refuse, we'll likely end up like this until Don returns this evening."

"Let me go!"

"No. I have given you the conditions of your release."

Tim began to swear again.

"What if it were your father holding you down? Would you treat him in this way?"

Trembling silence.

"My father _wouldn't_ be holding me down!" Tim shrieked. "He's paralyzed! He has been for years!"

James almost smiled sympathetically. He understood more than Tim realized, but this first step wasn't about understanding. It couldn't be because Tim wouldn't allow anyone to _understand_ him.

"How about your mother?"

Silence.

"Or is she paralyzed, too?"

Tim gave one mighty burst of effort and almost succeeded in freeing himself from James' grasp, but James was ready for it and managed to keep hold.

"I told you that you're not getting away until you promise me."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Believe it or not, it's not because I enjoy it."

"Then, let me go!"

James sighed theatrically. "We're back to that, are we? You don't have a short memory, Timothy. You know how to get me to free you. It's easy. You simply have to admit that you were wrong, that you won't do it again and then have a chat with me."

James knew why Tim wasn't responding. That would mean the first chink in the wall of hatred and anger he'd erected. He would have to admit that he had messed up, that there was a flaw to his way of thinking. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but it was still right in his head. It might take a while to get him to capitulate, but he would eventually.

...when his fear of being trapped exceeded his need to be angry.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Dr. Mallard?" Jimmy asked tentatively.

"What, Mr. Palmer?" Ducky snapped.

"Could you tell me what I did wrong?"

"What you did wrong?"

"Yeah...whatever it was, it must have been a doozy because you haven't been this mad at me since..."

"I'm _not_ mad at _you_, Mr. Palmer. Sometimes, personality flaws just become intolerable."

"Which ones? I can try to fix them," Jimmy said humbly.

Ducky suddenly paid attention to what Jimmy was saying.

"Oh, I'm sorry, lad. It's not you. It's something else."

"Is it about McGee still?"

"I'm afraid so."

"You know...I wonder if he wanted this to happen."

"What?"

"Well...he was so mad at everyone...I'm wondering if he wanted us to be mad at each other...you know, to divide us."

Ducky stared at the corpse.

"You may be right. If it only weren't so easily done."

"Well, we can make mistakes, can't we?"

"Yes, we can, Mr. Palmer. We all do. I have made plenty. ...but in this case, the mistakes could lead to the loss of a young man who shouldn't be lost."

"If he wants to be lost, Dr. Mallard, shouldn't we...I don't know...let him get lost?"

Ducky smiled and looked at Jimmy.

"I would agree...if I thought that was really what he wanted, but I don't think that's the case. I think there is a part of him that wants to be found. I can't let him remain lost if I'm right."

"So...this is like a really long and weird game of hide and seek?"

"I suppose so, Mr. Palmer. Your simile is apt."

"Okay...so...who's it? ...and who's hiding? ...and how does McGee being really mad figure into the simile?"

Ducky picked up a scalpel. "If I knew the answers to all those questions, Mr. Palmer, I wouldn't be here at work."

"Where would you be?"

"Making miracles."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

More than an hour passed with Tim refusing to give in, refusing to say anything other than accusations and demands...and profanities. James refused to let up. He was glad Ducky wasn't there. Then, he saw it...a single tear. It didn't matter whether Tim had meant to shed it or not. He was reacting.

"Let me go!"

"Will you promise not to attempt hitting me again?"

Silence.

"Will you agree to speak to me?"

Silence.

"I guess we'll just have to keep on as we are."

Another stretch of nothing...for about ten minutes.

"Let me go...please..." Tim's voice was almost quavering. The fear was winning out.

"Promise, Timothy," James said. "It's easy to do. You know all the words you have to say...but of course, you have mean them as well. That's more difficult. All it means is you exercising a modicum of self control. Promise not to hit me and to talk to me instead and we'll move on."

Another ten minutes of silence.

"Please, let me go," Tim's voice was positively shaking. He was more than frightened. He was terrified. James felt bad for the circumstances, but if he let him go without exacting the promise, Tim's anger would win out again and it would be more difficult to make him talk.

"Just promise, Timothy, and I will."

Momentarily, the anger returned.

"You're just like everyone else! Beating me down! Let me go!" He proceeded to swear a bit more.

"No, Timothy. Promise."

The mood pendulum swung back abruptly and Tim was afraid again.

"Let me go."

"When you promise."

Tim was quiet, except for his rather noisy breathing. He'd already tried pretending his air supply was being blocked. When that hadn't worked, he had gone back to demanding his release. Now, it was just that he was afraid and nothing he was trying was working. He knew what to do but everything in him was protesting it. It was obvious that he would almost rather face a beating than simply say that he would behave himself.

"Timothy?" James asked.

Then, without any ceremony, the capitulation came.

"...I...I...won't try to hit you again..."

"And?"

"And...I'll talk."

"All right." James eased the pressure, ready to redouble his grip should Tim be lying, but he simply went limp.

It was past two o'clock.

"You ready to talk, Timothy?"

Tim's eyes closed as he breathed loudly through his mouth. James waited. It was tempting to push it now, but the reason for his actions now was not to fix Tim. It was to get him to accept that he _needed_ to be fixed...so that someone else could help him.

Tim suddenly pushed himself up into a sitting position. Disdain back on his face.

"You want to talk? Fine. Let's talk."

James smiled. Total capitulation...even angrily done was a minor success.

"Good. Let's talk then."


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

James pulled another deck chair over to where Tim was sitting.

"First, we're going to lay out some ground rules."

"Oh really? And what might those rules be?" Tim asked sarcastically. ...but there was a cutting edge missing from his remark. Tim was still afraid, was still tense...and he was trying to cover that up.

"This is going to be a tit-for-tat, quid pro quo discussion. I will ask you a question. You will answer it. You will ask me a question. I will answer it. There are no holds barred on the questions being asked. Every question must be answered."

"Are _you_ going to follow your own rules?"

"Of course. In fact, you can go first, if you'd like. ...but this quid pro quo applies across the board. That is both a promise and a warning, Timothy."

"Whatever."

"Would you like to start or would you like me to start?"

Tim stood up. "I have to let Jethro out first."

"Very well, but you will come right back here."

Tim stiffened.

"You promised," James reminded him pointedly.

No reply, but Tim walked to the sliding door, opened it, and when Jethro came streaking out, he hesitated and then returned to his seat beside the pool. He watched his dog running around, gamboling across the lawn.

"Do you lie a lot?" he asked.

"In general or are you referring to specific situations?"

"I thought you said you'd answer any question."

"And I will, but I need to understand before I can answer accurately."

"In general."

"I try not to, but I do lie when I think the occasion calls for it."

"Can you be more specific?"

"If you want to go into specifics on my side, then you have to be willing to go into specifics on your side. Are you willing to do that?"

Tim was silent.

"Is it my turn or are you trying to decide?"

Tim's eyes moved away. "Your turn."

James smiled. "Who is Thomas to you?"

"How do you know about him?"

"Don is my friend who asked for my help, Timothy. Do you really think he wouldn't explain anything? Who is Thomas to you?"

"He's a made-up..."

"Honesty," James said, interrupting.

"He's a made-up identity I created from how I thought I could have turned out...how I _should_ have turned out."

James nodded. "Your turn."

Tim looked at him in surprise but covered quickly. "Why are you here?"

"Because Don asked for my help. Why don't you want any help?"

"Because I'm not interested in it. Why do you care?"

"Because you remind me of people I've tried to help before. Why wouldn't you want help?"

"Because it's stupid to think that it would do any good. Have you ever screwed up an undercover operation before?"

"Oh, yes. That's why I'm an instructor now rather than an operative. My cover was blown on a rather important case and I would have to get a new face grafted over my current features in order to work undercover again. Do you _want_ to be like you are now?"

"Doesn't matter. It's what I've chosen."

"You're not answering the question. Is this what you _want_?"

"You said we didn't have to be specific," Tim retorted angrily. "My answer is that it doesn't matter. You don't have any right to tell me that it's not a good enough answer!"

"Very well. Your turn."

"How did you screw up so bad that you had to give up your job?"

"I honestly can't remember all the details, but I had a piece of my cover that didn't fit right. It led to my discovery. I almost didn't make it out alive. Do you like your dog?"

"What?"

"Do you like your dog? Jethro, I believe his name is?"

"Yeah."

James smiled. "Your turn."

"What kind of a stupid question is that?"

"Curiosity. My turn."

"Hey! That's not fair!"

"You asked a question, a question for which you wanted an answer. It is completely fair." James dared Tim to challenge him.

He didn't. He glared and clenched his jaw but he said nothing.

"What is in your nightmares that frightens so much that you awaken screaming?"

The anger faded and Tim looked away. James waited for a minute or two. Still nothing.

"Remember the rules."

Tim's voice, when he spoke, was very different. It was tired, not angry, not afraid...just tired.

"Not much. Mostly me. Mirrors. People chasing me. Shattering glass. Guns. Just nightmares. Have you ever killed someone...on purpose?"

"Yes. More than I might wish I had. Have you?"

"Yes. Why do you say more than you wish you had?"

"Because killing isn't something I enjoy. I have only done it when it was necessary. Even when it was, I wished that there was another way other than taking someone's life. Have you regretted taking a person's life?"

"Yes."

Tim said nothing more for a long time. James waited. He didn't kid himself that this much more mellow version of Tim would last. He was too tired to be angry for the moment, but this despondency was as dangerous as the rage was.

"Are you married?"

"No. Do you date?"

"Not anymore. Did you get a divorce?"

"No. She died. Eleven years ago. Why don't you date?"

"I'm not interested. Did you kill her?"

James almost laughed at the sad attempt to get a rise out of him. "No. She had pancreatic cancer. Nothing we could do about it. Why would you ask if I killed my wife?"

"Just wondering. Did you like going undercover?"

"That's an interesting question. I certainly like the results of it...but no, undercover work was simply something at which I excelled. It was not something I enjoyed. I didn't deal with the stress very well. Sometimes, I got ulcers. I don't really miss it. Did _you_ like going undercover?"

"No. I hated it. What are you expecting from this?"

"To open your eyes. Why are you trying to pretend that you don't care?"

"I'm not pretending. I don't. I don't care what happens now. Why do you think I'm pretending?"

"Because you're still alive. Because when your shower exploded, you went somewhere you could feel safe, not somewhere you could die. Why don't you try to save the frogs?"

"Because they're stupid. They won't stop coming no matter how hard I try. I'll bet even the ones that get away come back for more and drown for their trouble. What's the point?"

"Saving an innocent creature who doesn't know that some water is bad. Why do you hate your team?"

"Because they're all idiots who only thought about themselves and didn't bother trying to help me when I wanted it. They only cared when I forced them to open their eyes. Why are you wasting your time on me?"

"Because I don't see it as a waste. How did you force them?"

Tim smiled nastily. "I punched Tony in the face. Served him right. I quit and didn't tell them. I screwed up their computers so they had to type in what I thought of them in order to access their files. Why don't you see it as a waste? Your life that boring?"

"I spent hours today holding you down. How is that boring?"

"You spent hours holding me down. How is that _not_ boring?"

"Because I'm trying to save a life. That's never boring."

Tim laughed at him.

"What's so funny?"

"You thinking you're going to save me. That's hilarious. If I had wanted to be saved, I would have let it happen. I don't want to be saved. How much longer is this going to go on?"

"How much longer do you want it to?"

"I don't want it to go on at all."

"We're going to do this again tomorrow. If you want to stop for now, that's fine."

"Good. We're done."

James stood up and turned to walk inside. He didn't see Tim's foot.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Ducky?"

Ducky paused on his way out of NCIS. He was anxious to get back and find out how the day had gone. He had little hope that it had gone well, but he did want to know if it had gone badly.

"Yes, Jethro?"

"Can we talk?"

"About what?"

"McGee."

"Oh, is he worthy of your time now?" Ducky asked.

"Duck, he said he didn't want to see any of us and that he wished us dead."

"And that means you can no longer feel any degree of concern? Certainly, you're not required to do so, but I would have thought that seven years of acquaintance, plus knowledge of the circumstances would help to at least ameliorate any ill will you might feel."

There was a long pause.

"Jethro, I can think of three reasons why you might wish to speak to me about Timothy: guilt, regret, or anger. Which is it?"

"Only one?" Gibbs asked.

"I'm fairly certain that there could only be one that predominates. Which is it?"

"I think guilt and regret are pretty much the same."

"No. They're not. Guilt is about you. Regret is about the other person. Anger is also mostly about yourself."

Another pause.

"Quickly, Jethro," Ducky said impatiently. "Unlike yourself, I have not given up on trying to save Timothy from himself."

"I haven't!" Gibbs said with a little heat, but then corrected himself. "I have...but not because I want to, Ducky."

"Then, why?"

"I screwed up."

"Yes. How is that relevant now?"

Gibbs actually shuffled his feet a little.

"I helped cause the current situation. I think it's probably relevant."

"Granted. Why are you telling me this? Do you think that it's a surprise to me?"

"I was trying to move on since that seemed to be the only option."

Ducky sighed. "Jethro, there's a difference between moving on and willful apathy. I'm not saying that you should have been trying to talk to Timothy more than you did. I don't think it would have helped matters...although leaving him completely alone was a horrible error on my part. I didn't understand how deep his mental distress went."

"I did."

"What?"

"I didn't tell you everything he said to me."

"What did you leave out?"

"He told me that all he wanted out of his life now was to hate me."

Ducky sighed. "Yes, that fits. He has cut himself off from everyone...including himself. I asked a friend to come and speak with him. I don't think the odds are especially good that it will work, but it can't hurt to try."

"You didn't call any of us."

"Because Timothy still hates you. Your presence would only have made things worse."

Ducky started to walk away and then he heard a very soft laugh.

"What?"

"'The weed of crime bears bitter fruit.' McGee put that on my computer as the background, along with a pair of eyes."

"It's still there?"

"I don't know how to change it," Gibbs said with a slight smile. "He's right, though. Look at the bitter fruit that came from all this."

"Yes, indeed. Look at all this chaos has wrought. We have all been torn asunder by Timothy's breakdown. ...as he probably intended, an idea pointed out to me by Mr. Palmer. He is no longer content with his own destruction. He wants to destroy those he blames as well. ...I suppose we'll have to thwart him on that score."

"Hasn't he already?"

"He's weakened the bonds a bit, perhaps...but ignoring the problem won't make it go away, Jethro. Sometimes, staying silent is _not_ a symbol of wisdom. Now, I have to go. It's long drive back up to Maryland."

"You're staying there?"

"For a few days...until he tries to throw us out physically."

"Good luck."

"Timothy will need it." Ducky turned away again, but then paused and looked back. "Jethro...you don't have to give up on him in order to move on. You can keep hoping but still accept reality as it is."

Gibbs said nothing and Ducky continued on his way.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

When Ducky arrived at the house, he was surprised to see Tim asleep on the floor...soaking wet. When James came into the room, he was only slightly drier.

"James...what on earth–?"

James put a finger to his lips. "Shh...don't wake him up." He smiled. "He's had a hard day."

"What happened?"

James gestured for them to go into the kitchen where he was cooking dinner.

"What happened?" Ducky asked again.

"Well, let's see. I spent more than two hours pinning Timothy to the deck chair after he tried to take a swing at me. Then, we talked for a while. Then, he tripped me and knocked me into the pool. I reciprocated and knocked _him_ into the pool and then kept him there for another hour, dunking him every time he tried to get away. Then, I forced him to take care of Jethro and play with him for a little while. He tried to push me into the pool again after that and I again shoved him in, leading to another hour in the pool. I then let him out. He came inside and fell asleep on the floor. I haven't bothered to wake him. Any sleep he gets at this point is a good thing."

Ducky felt his mouth open in embarrassment and horror, but James only laughed.

"I've had worse, Don. Breaking down his sense of his own perfection could lead to him asking for help. ...or it could solidify his sense of worthlessness...which is surely lurking only barely beneath all of his anger and hatred. I would bet that at least half of the hatred is actually directed at himself...whether he'll admit it or not."

"I'm so sorry, James."

"No, Don. This is what you wanted me for. It's what I'm doing...but I think you owe me a real vacation after this. I'll sleep like a log tonight."

"Let me finish dinner. You can get cleaned up if you like."

"Oh, I've showered off all the chlorine. I just was a bit quick getting dressed in case Timothy woke up."

"I didn't think he would try to attack you."

"I'm attacking him...figuratively at least. It doesn't surprise me. Don, he's just barely on this side of sanity. He can't think of any other way to get me to shut up. Physical violence is his best and only option."

"Did you get him to eat at all?"

"Unfortunately no. I was too busy laying down the law."

Ducky laughed, but he felt very uneasy. James noticed.

"Don, this is not going to be easy."

"Was there any progress at all?"

"Some. Not much...and not enough. If I can get through to him at all, it will take days of this. Hopefully, I've made it clear enough to him that I won't tolerate his behavior. If so, then the rest of our discussions can go more smoothly...if no less full of fireworks."

Ducky looked back toward the other room. Tim's feet could just be seen.

"After today, do you think he can pull through?"

James took a deep breath. "I don't know, Don. I really don't. Part of the problem is that I don't have a baseline to compare. Most of the people I've helped with these types of problems are people I've known, even just slightly. I don't know him, not as he was. I only see him as he is...and am taking your word that it's not normal. If I were to rate our chances of success right now? ...I'd say that we're at a 40 percent chance that we can get Timothy to accept the help he needs. If we push it too soon, that will drop dramatically. If we wait too long, it will drop to zero. I'll keep trying, but I'd be lying if I said I was incredibly optimistic."

"That's what I was afraid of." With another long sigh, Ducky stood. "I'll go wake him for dinner."

"Good idea."

"It's about the only thing that _is_ good right now."


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

Dinner was a rather solemn affair. Tim said little...ate little...and left as soon as he could. He fed Jethro, let him outside and then crept around to listen in on Ducky and James as they chatted. He was certain that they'd be doing the same thing everyone else had been doing when they thought he couldn't hear them: putting him down. Quietly, he snuck around to the front of the house, let himself inside and walked just as silently to where he could listen.

"...on her grave. I was furious. I couldn't believe someone would deface a grave marker," James was saying.

"That's awful," Ducky said sympathetically. "Were you able to get the graffiti off?"

"Not all of it. The cemetery groundsman promised that he'd see what he could do. If they can't clean it off, I'll have to order a new headstone. The one I have cost over 600 pounds. Lorie wouldn't care, I know, but it's important to me to have it there...without vulgar epithets spray painted all over it."

"Was it targeted?"

"Well, I'm not sure. It's possible, after all the work I've done over the years, but more than likely, it was some delinquent who simply was interrupted before he could do more."

"Other than that, how are things?"

James laughed a little. "Gesine has finally stopped trying to get me to remarry. I thought children were supposed to resent it if their parents married again, not encourage it."

Ducky chuckled good-naturedly. "Gesine. How old is she now?"

"Thirty-one years, not that she'd appreciate the reminder. Her thirtieth birthday was traumatic."

"Aren't the big ones always that way? I haven't had a chance to visit London in a long while."

"I know. You need to come out our way sometime...meet my grandchildren."

"Indeed. I love Washington, D.C., but I do get homesick, even after all these years."

Tim withdrew as silently as he had come, strangely disturbed...feeling as though he had heard something he shouldn't, although he couldn't say why. He went up the stairs to his bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Tomorrow, he'd have to answer more questions, have to have James niggling around inside his brain, trying to figure him out, trying to force him to see "reason". He wanted to tell him to forget it...but he had promised Ducky. He couldn't lie.

_Why not?_

"Because if I'm better than everyone else, I have to do what they wouldn't do...that means I'm honest."

...but it would be so nice to escape from all that for a while, just forget everything about his life, about himself. It would be wonderful.

...and he could do that, Tim suddenly remembered. He leaned over and opened the drawer beside his bed and pulled out a largish pill. He still could recall Jewel pressing it into his palm with the order that he be ready for later. He'd kept it. Was it later now? Why not? What did he have to lose?

...and yet... He had promised Gibbs he wouldn't take any more than the one he had.

_Gibbs doesn't rule your life anymore! You can do what you want!_

Still, Tim hesitated, looking at the pill in his hand. He jumped, startled, as loud laughter burst up from downstairs. For some reason, hearing that hurt. Without another thought, he put the pill in his mouth and swallowed. Even if he felt ill afterward like he had the first time, it couldn't possibly be worse than he felt at every moment of every day and night.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was amazing how the time could pass in pleasant conversation with an old friend. Ducky was surprised to notice the time. He might not have paid attention, but Jethro began whining and pawing at the kitchen door to be let in.

"Oh, dear. It's been more than two hours! Where is Timothy?" Ducky asked as he got up to open the door.

"Well, he was eavesdropping an hour or so ago," James said. "I got a glimpse of him, but I haven't heard anything from him since then."

"I'd better check to see where he is."

James smiled and stood. "I'll look outside. The worst I can get is another dunking in the pool."

"I'll check upstairs."

"Don, how in the world did you manage to leave him alone for a month?"

"By convincing myself that it was the best course of action. Now, that I know otherwise, I could never do the same."

"I understand. I'll see if he's outside. I pushed him pretty hard today. He might have fallen asleep again."

"I doubt it."

Ducky headed for the stairs, and as James opened the door, Jethro streaked inside, past Ducky and up the stairs. That made him feel worried. Jethro generally seemed to stick to Tim wherever he was...which, on the surface, was strange considering how little Tim seemed to regard the animal.

There was a heavy thump. Ducky increased his pace. As he neared Tim's room, he heard Jethro whimpering. The door to Tim's room was open.

Tim was on the floor, half naked. His face was flushed and pinched with pain. As Ducky watched, he curled onto his side, twitching violently.

"Oh, no." Ducky saw that Tim's window was open wide and he hurried over to it. "James!"

James ran around into view.

"Call for an ambulance. Now! Something's happened!"

James nodded and headed back around the house for the door. Ducky turned back and knelt beside Tim.

"Timothy. Can you hear me?"

The twitching calmed slightly and Tim's eyes opened. When they fastened on Ducky, he began to laugh, between gasps for air and groans. He rolled onto his back.

"Timothy, what happened?"

The laughter became almost painful to hear, and tears leaked from Tim's eyes as he struggled for breath.

"She...it's funny...Ducky. So...funny." More laughter.

"What did you take?"

"Guess...shouldn't...be very hard."

"Ecstasy?"

"Almost."

"Where did you get it?"

"Jewel...her special...she...gave it to me...that last day."

"You've kept it all this time?"

"Why not?" Tim laughed again. "Took..me by surprise. Wasn't...like this the first time."

James ran into the room, phone to his ear. "What is it, Don?"

"Ecstasy, probably with PMA."

"What?"

"It's from the case he was investigating. Long story." Ducky put a hand on Tim's forehead as Tim began to twitch again. Then, he felt for Tim's pulse. "Hyperthermia. Tell them to hurry. He has the symptoms of sertonin toxicity."

James nodded and continued with his terse answers to whatever questions were being asked of him.

"Timothy...why? Why did you do this?"

The twitching eased once more and Tim let out another pain-ridden laugh.

"Seemed...like a good...idea...at the time. Thought...I'd feel better."

James hung up the phone, went into the bathroom and then returned with several wet towels. He knelt down and Ducky looked at him fearfully.

"I don't know what to do, James," he whispered. "Not here."

He wasn't soft enough.

"Just...leave it... Fitting, isn't it?"

Tim's eyes closed and he began to convulse.

"They'll get here," James said.

Abruptly, the convulsions ceased and Tim was limp briefly before fighting for breath again. James placed the towels on Tim's bare chest, one smaller towel on his forehead and a couple on his arms.

"What...you doing?" Tim asked.

"Trying to bring your temperature down so that you don't fry your brain."

"Doesn't matter. None...of it matters. Throbbing in...my head."

"It _does_ matter, Timothy. You can't die like this."

Tim's eyes opened to narrow slits and he laughed. "Gotta...die somehow. Why not now...instead of later?"

"Is that what you wanted?"

"Not necessarily. Just...meant to be."

More convulsions. They lasted longer this time and Ducky cleared the towels away so that they didn't get tangled up, particularly the one on his forehead. When they calmed again, Tim was on his side in a fetal position...and began gagging.

"Tilt his head," Ducky said. "We can't have him choking on his vomit."

Working together, James and Ducky managed to direct Tim's retching onto the floor, even when he continued twitching, making it more difficult to control him.

"Hot..."

"I know, Timothy. You're hyperthermic."

The sirens could be faintly heard and James stood quickly.

"I'll get them and show them where to come."

Ducky only nodded.

"Stay with me, Timothy. Please."

"Why?"

"Because I care about you, lad...and I don't want you to die."

"Why not?"

"You are a good person, Timothy. You don't deserve death."

Weakly, Tim lifted his head and looked at Ducky...and then, he shook his head.

"No...I'm not, Ducky. I'm not...a good person."

The twitching increased and Tim curled into a tighter fetal position as his muscles all tensed and his lungs and heart struggled to function in spite of the drug currently damaging the signals.

The EMTs came into the room. Ducky moved out of the way to let them do their job. They moved Tim onto the stretcher quickly and then hauled him away. The suddenly silence, the sudden calm seemed out of place after the ambulance was gone. Ducky stood in Tim's room, shaking his head.

James came in after a few minutes.

"James...I never imagined...even knowing about Tim's mental state. I never even _considered_ this as a possibility."

"Neither did he, Don. He didn't think he was killing himself. He thought he was making himself feel better. It's not a good thing, but it should be a comfort at least that he wasn't trying to die."

"He didn't care."

"No, he didn't."

Ducky took a breath and collected himself. He looked at the floor.

"We should clean that up. Timothy would hate to know that he'd ruined the carpet."

James smiled faintly. "His friend is going to regret that he asked Tim to come. Exploding showers, invaders, vomit on the floor."

Ducky nodded. "Yes...quite against type."

"Do you know where the cleaners are in this mansion?"

"No, but I'm sure we can find them."

"All right. We'll clean and then we'll go. They took him to Germantown, wherever that may be."

"I can get us there."

"Are you all right, Don?"

Ducky smiled. "No. I'm not. ...but I'll live. I don't know if Timothy will."


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

It was a long night. Ducky and James sat in the waiting room at the hospital in Germantown...waiting.

It was after two a.m. when a doctor came out to speak with them.

"You're here for Timothy McGee?"

"Yes. We found him."

"Are you family?"

"No. I'm a friend, and...well, Timothy has been experiencing mental and emotional problems lately. He has rejected contact with nearly everyone but me at the moment. If you can let me know what is happening, I will pass along the information to his family."

The doctor nodded. "We've managed to treat his overdose. The ecstasy and PMA synergized to make the effects worse. It was a good thing you were able to get him help so quickly. Much longer, he would have either died or faced permanent internal damage from the hyperthermia. He's doing much better now."

"May we see him?"

"Of course. Back this way."

Ducky and James walked back to the room where Tim lay. He was quiet, unmoving. His eyes were closed.

They sat down beside the bed and waited for a while in silence. Tim didn't wake up.

"What now, Don?"

"I'm going to try and get him to realize that he's run out of options. He could have died, and I don't want this to be the kind of end he makes."

"You're probably right. I'll make myself scarce. He'll be more likely to respond to you and believe in your good will. I'm cantankerous."

Ducky smiled. "Thank you for your help, James."

"Well, remains to be seen whether or not it _was _a help."

"Yes. We'll see."

"Do you want to call anyone?"

"Not yet. I don't want to put him on the defensive right away. I'll play it by ear."

"Just say if you need anything."

Ducky nodded and looked at Tim again. He waited for Tim to wake up, dozing himself for quite a while.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim opened his eyes and took a deep breath with an ease that surprised him. Breathing had been extraordinarily difficult not too long ago. Most of what he saw was a bit out of focus and his head was spinning a bit. It also ached as if someone had taken a hammer to it. The idea of moving seemed like a far-off dream.

"Wow," he whispered, staring fuzzily at the ceiling. "Now, I know why they say don't use drugs."

"Timothy?"

Tim blinked, surprised that he wasn't alone. He made the Herculean effort to turn his head toward the voice. He blinked a few more times to clear his vision. It wasn't his imagination. Ducky was there, just awakening.

"Ducky?"

Ducky yawned widely and sat up.

"What are you doing here?"

"Where else would I be?"

"Sleeping...in a bed."

"Not until I knew if you were going to be all right."

"Am I?"

"Yes, the doctors say so. ...although you seem to be doing a good job of trying to destroy yourself."

The disappointment in Ducky's voice made Tim look away, not sure why he felt ashamed rather than angry.

"You saved me," he said, staring at the IV bag.

"Yes, we did."

"Why? Why bother?"

"If you truly don't want to live, Timothy, then I might wonder the same thing...but I can't believe that."

"Why not?"

"Because you have shown multiple times that you _do_ want to live, even if other events have demonstrated a woeful lack of sanity on your part. I have a question for you, and I need an answer. A real answer."

Tim didn't say anything.

"Is this what you want from your life, Timothy?"

Almost, Tim could wish for the angry voice in his head, for the fury that had sustained him for so long...but he couldn't dredge up the energy to feel it. He couldn't find any way to scoff and be angry. He felt so empty. ...and he couldn't find _anything_ to fill the yawning cavity inside himself. There was nothing. Nothing at all...just that unending emptiness.

"Is it?"

"Doesn't matter," Tim whispered.

"That is _not_ an answer. Yes or no, Timothy. Is this what you really want? Teetering on the edge of insanity until you finally fall beyond the reach of everyone and everything in your life worth having?"

Tim dropped his gaze from the IV bag, down the tube, to his hand. Idly, he wondered what was in it. Not that it really mattered.

"Because it _does_ matter and I need an answer."

Tim didn't want to give an answer. Giving an answer would mean breaking the ambiguity, would mean confronting things he didn't want to confront, things he didn't want to see or acknowledge. It was easier if it didn't matter. It was easier if he simply went on doing what he knew was wrong because there was no one to care. It was easier when he forced everyone away and pretended that being alone was all there was. It was easier not to feel anything but anger, as tiring as that was. It was easier to deny that there was anything else, that there were emotions shrieking inside his head, clamoring to escape. It was easier to be nothing.

"Timothy. Answer me."

Ducky's voice was no longer the kindly doctor. It was commanding...and yet, Tim wasn't angry about that. He recognized why Ducky was asking, even if he didn't want to answer.

"Is this the life you want?"

Tim tried to make his voice work, but he couldn't. He couldn't get his vocal cords to vibrate and give an answer. He looked from his hand to the blanket.

"I want to be angry," Tim said softly...and felt the unfamiliar tears choking his throat. "...but I can't. I don't know why."

"I need an answer, Timothy."

"I...don't...know what I want."

"Yes, you do. Do you want this life or don't you? It's a simple question. I'm not asking what you want in replacement. I'm asking if _this _is what you want."

Again, Tim couldn't find it in him to give an answer. He didn't know why, but when he tried to make himself answer the question, he couldn't. He began stroking the blanket.

"I can't...answer."

"Nod or shake your head. It doesn't even require a word."

Tim tried once more to feel the anger. It wouldn't come. There was only that yawning emptiness.

"Ask me again," he whispered.

"Is this the life you want, Timothy?"

Feeling as though it was sucking away every bit of energy he had, Tim finally shook his head.

"Then, will you listen to me? Really listen."

Tim nodded, still stroking the blanket, wishing he could feel _something_. ...and suddenly, he did. Ducky's hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, Timothy, there is so much more than this."

Tim couldn't reply.

"Will you now get the help you need?"

"What help is that?" Tim asked, trying (and failing) to sound sarcastic.

"I would like to suggest that you admit yourself to a psychiatric facility."

Tim forced himself to laugh...but it didn't last long. It couldn't because he didn't feel like laughing. Not at all.

"It will help you."

"With what?"

"All the problems you've been facing...alone. You don't have to do that. ...and quite frankly, Timothy, I'm not qualified."

"I'm that bad?"

"Yes. You know that you are."

The blanket on the bed was really, really boring. How lovely it was. Something boring. No trauma, no emotion. It was just a blanket. He continued to stroke it, watching as the IV needle in his hand shifted slightly in response to his movements.

"She was going to kill me, you know," he said.

"Who?"

"Jewel. ...Julia. She gave that to me...said I should save it for later. Only there wasn't a later, not with her. I killed her. ...I guess she was returning the favor."

"Timothy."

"It's funny. I don't feel anything right now. Nothing at all. I want to. ...but I don't. It's like there's a black hole where I was before. Everything is...gone."

"Will you go?"

"Check into the loony bin?"

"Get help. You need it. Desperately. You can't function as you are and you know that."

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

Tim began tracing shapes in the nap of the blanket. How lovely to look at the blanket.

"I killed her. She tried to kill me. Nice parallel, isn't it?"

"Timothy, will you go?"

"It's not like I expected it. They must have been suspicious. They must have known. She was done with me. I must have screwed up somewhere...I don't even know where."

Whorls and loops. No real picture, just lines.

"All I wanted...I don't know."

"Timothy, are you listening?"

"What a failure."

"Timothy."

"Everything. Screwed up. Beginning to end. ...and I don't care...don't feel a thing."

"Timothy," Ducky said firmly.

Tim saw one of Ducky's hands move over to cover his, stopping his motions.

"Get help, Timothy. Let me do what I can. Please."

"Why are you here?"

"To help you...because I care."

"You shouldn't."

"Why not?"

"I don't."

"You do. You're just hiding from that fact."

"Why should I go? For you?"

"No, Timothy. You should go for yourself...for who you are, for all that you can be. That's why you should go."

"I'm house sitting."

"We can make arrangements so that everything will be secure there."

"I still don't forgive them."

"To be honest, Timothy, I don't care. All I want is for you to be healthy and happy again."

"I don't have insurance. I quit, never bothered to get anything else."

"It will be taken care of."

Tim moved his eyes, following the line of Ducky's arm up to his face...a face filled with concern, not hatred or disdain.

"What have I done, Ducky?"

"Nothing that can't be undone...if you're willing to do it. Will you go?"

"Some things can't be undone."

"It's true, but there are many things that can. Will you go?"

Tim looked down again and shivered.

"I'm cold."

"I'll make sure you get another blanket."

Tim looked toward his feet. He knew he still had to answer, and he wished, oh how he wished that he could find some emotion inside himself, something that would allow him to shout, to be angry...to _feel_ something about his situation. He just couldn't do it.

"Timothy?"

There seemed to be no other option, really. There seemed to be only one choice, only one way to go.

"I'll go."


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

Tim was released into Ducky's care later that day. Ducky had taken the day off, and while he had told Vance what had happened, it was only with the assurance that he didn't tell anyone else. While Tim had agreed to start getting help, he still wasn't interested in seeing anyone from his former team. They drove back to Matt's house just in time to let the shower people in. James led Tim into the kitchen while Ducky took them upstairs to show them the damage and explain what had happened.

Tim was still lost in that limbo of no emotion. His desire to keep away from his team wasn't based in anger...merely determination not to see them. ...but without the anger, he just didn't know what to do, and he still couldn't dredge up anything. It was like taking that pill had removed every emotion he had...and put nothing in place of it. He sank down onto a stool and then rested his chin on his folded arms. James tactfully said nothing. Instead, he walked around gathering ingredients to make something for lunch, letting Tim decide if there would be conversation.

"I shouldn't have pushed you into the pool," Tim said softly.

"Pardon?"

"I shouldn't have pushed you into the pool."

"No, you shouldn't have."

Tim didn't look up, didn't shift position. It was as though he was looking at something distantly removed from himself and commenting on it.

"Where's Jethro?"

"Outside. I introduced him to the man who takes care of the horses."

"Oh. I forgot there were horses here."

"There are."

"Yeah."

"Any preference for lunch?"

"No. Not really hungry."

"I'm not surprised. Eating is still necessary, however."

"Okay."

James glanced over. It was that same despondency that had briefly directed their conversation the day before. Some of it was probably lingering effects of the pill he had taken, but Tim had confronted, even obliquely, his mortality and the fact that it was a result of his own foolish actions as well as the planning of someone he had killed. How long would this last? ...long enough for them to get him into a hospital? Or would his anger return and lead to his changing his mind? If he did that, James knew it would probably be the last chance Tim had for recovery.

He looked up as Ducky came into the kitchen and raised his eyebrows once. Ducky nodded in response and sat down beside Tim, placing a gentle hand on his back. Tim jumped slightly but didn't raise his head.

"Timothy?"

"Yeah."

"There are some people you should call."

"Like who?"

"Your family, your friend. They should know where you're going."

"Yeah... They'll be glad to know they were right and I was wrong."

Abruptly, Tim got up, shrugged off Ducky's hand and walked out to the pool. He sat down on his deck chair and stared at the water.

"You'd better get him there as soon as you can, Don," James said softly. "He's liable to go right back where he was given the chance."

"I know. I've already called the Institute to tell them that we were coming. They'll be ready for him in the morning. Do you need any help?"

"Not as much as he does, Don," James said and then smiled good-naturedly. "Go and talk to him, get him on the phone. That's more important than lunch right now...no matter how skinny he is."

Ducky chuckled and walked out to the pool, phone in hand. He sat down beside Tim once more and held out the phone.

"Whom do you wish to call first?"

"No one."

"That's not an option."

"I'm not calling people from NCIS."

"You don't have to."

Tim put out his hand and took the phone. He hesitated and then dialed a number.

"Hi...Mom. It's me."

Ducky smiled and nodded when Tim looked at him with that semi-blank stare.

"Yeah...I just...I need to tell you something. I know it's been a while."

Tim took a deep breath.

"I'm checking into the loony bin."

"Timothy," Ducky warned.

"I'm...I'm going to go to a psychiatric hospital...yes...voluntarily."

Tim started to shake his head, but he continued to speak.

"Yeah...I don't... No, Mom. I don't know how long. No...please, don't come. Not yet. I promise. I'm going. Ducky's making sure of that." The smallest hint of bitterness there. "You can talk to him...if you need to. Will you call Sarah for me? Thanks. Okay. I'm going to go now, Mom. Bye." Tim hung up.

"You didn't tell her about what happened last night."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Nothing she can do about it. She didn't need to know."

"She wanted to come?"

"Yeah."

"You said no."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I'm not going to have people come and stare at me like an animal in a zoo!" The first fire Tim had expressed in almost a day. Dangerous.

"Now, you need to call your friend."

Tim nodded and dialed another number.

"Hey, Matt. Yeah, it's me." Tim's eyes closed. "Hi, Judith." He opened his eyes again. "I'm sorry about the shower. ...okay. I just wanted to tell you that I can't house sit anymore. I'm going to a...to a mental hospital. Um...yeah. So...Ducky said that he'd make sure things were okay here. If...If you need me to stay then I could..."

Ducky smiled at the obvious attempt to find a reason not to go.

"Okay. If you're sure... Okay. Bye." Tim hung up once more, clearly not giving Matt the chance to say anything else. "There. They know."

"There's no one else you need to tell?"

"No."

"What about Abigail?"

"No."

"Are you angry at her as well?"

"No, but she doesn't need to know. I'm not talking to her, Ducky. You're not going to make me."

"Very well. I will not insist. You should pack. I can bring you other things you might need if you'd like."

Tim shook his head.

"I'm not going to see anyone once I go in there, Ducky. I'm going to do whatever it is they want me to do and that's it. No outside world."

"You can't ignore the outside world."

Tim handed the phone back to Ducky.

"Watch me." He stood up and walked back inside the house.

Ducky sighed and stared out at the yard. He had known that no part of this would be easy, but still, he had _hoped_ that Tim would see the _value_ of getting help, not just that he had another way in which to hide himself away. Still, this was the best and _only_ option. It would have to be enough.

He got up to follow Tim inside.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The rest of the day passed easily enough. Tim said very little. James had searched through all his luggage and his room to make sure there were no other pills and had come up empty. It was a relief to know that Tim had been honest about how many ecstasy pills he'd had. The shower people had cleaned up the bathroom but had to take new measurements in order to replace the glass walls. They informed Ducky that Matt had apparently ripped the owners a new one when he had called and so they were to get the work done as quickly and safely as possible. It was an uncommon problem but had occurred before with other companies. A microscopic flaw in the glass put the entire wall under stress and eventually it would explode from the tension of being screwed in place. No deaths or major injuries had been reported, mostly because it happened so rarely, but it was a known risk and one that they tried to fix as quickly as possible to keep from making headlines. They spoke with Ducky and scheduled when they would come and install the new shower walls.

Then, it was just the motley crew of Tim, Ducky and James...and Jethro. Tim made no move to go to bed. Instead, he went out to the pool again. Ducky and James gave Tim his space...while keeping a discrete eye on him, not wanting something else to go wrong on this last night. When Tim seemed to be settling down for another night outside watching frogs, Ducky and James decided to sleep in shifts so that someone could be watching Tim all through the night.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Four a.m. Much too early to be waking up, but Ducky sat up, yawned, thought longingly of the time when he could sleep through the night again, and then headed down the stairs. James was in the kitchen. He noticed Ducky and smiled.

"Hey, Don! Come here and look," he whispered, gesturing.

Ducky joined him as he watched.

Tim was halfway around the pool. He knelt down beside the frantic flailings of a frog on its way to drowning. He hesitated and then reached down with a net and caught it up out of the pool. He had a water bottle beside him and he gently washed off the chlorine before carrying the frog to the low fence and dropping it over. Then, he walked back around the pool and sat down on his chair, resuming his staring.

"He's done that before?"

"Once. I wasn't sure if he'd do it again. He doesn't look like he really wants to, but he is...for whatever reason."

"Have you asked him?"

"No. I don't want him to feel conscious of being watched doing something he might consider to be wrong...for whatever reason."

"For whatever reason," Ducky repeated softly. "I never know whether to be encouraged or otherwise when I watch him. I don't know, James. I must confess that I never considered Timothy to be a candidate for this type of breakdown."

"You never know who it will hit and when. I've seen operatives go through the worst kind of situation imaginable and come out with nothing more than a scar or two and then lose it with a single light undercover mission. You never know. ...and it seems that there were contributing factors involved in this case. No one should feel they have to go through deep undercover without support as Timothy did. That is not only difficult. It's also dangerous. ...but as long as Timothy doesn't try to take out us two old geezers, as they say."

"True. Your turn to sleep, I believe."

"Good. I'm tired, believe it or not."

"Go on, then."

Ducky settled down to watch as Tim sat. As the night went on, he gradually began to droop. Jethro was out beside him, head in his paws, sleeping. By the time the next frog fell into the pool, Tim was asleep as well.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You'll make sure everything is okay here?" Tim asked as he carried his suitcase down the stairs.

"Yes, Timothy."

"And Jethro will be all right?"

"Yes, Timothy."

"Are you sure? I don't..."

"Everything will be all right in your absence, and you have but to call if you wish to..."

"No." Tim stopped at the front door and looked at Ducky...again, strangely without the anger, only with determination and the emptiness. "I'm going in there and that's it."

Ducky inclined his head in resignation. Hopefully, after he'd been receiving treatment for a while, he'd lift that restriction.

"Well...let's go, then."

"After you, Timothy." Ducky looked back over his shoulder. "I'll be back in a while, James."

"Don't mind me. Jethro and I will get better acquainted while you're gone. It was good to meet you, Timothy."

"Yeah, right." Tim walked out the front door.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat next to Ducky as they waited for his name to be called. He was trying not to squirm. All he wanted to do at the moment was run away, but he sat there, not moving. Ducky was calm beside him. Of course.

Some of his emotions were slowly resurrecting themselves, but he still had no energy to do more than acknowledge that they were there. He was tired. Exhausted. He couldn't see how coming here was going to help, but he was too tired to fend Ducky off anymore.

"Timothy McGee?"

Tim jumped as Ducky touched his wrist.

"Come, lad. Let's go."

Tim nodded mutely and followed Ducky back to a brightly-lit room.

"Timothy?"

Another nod.

"I'm Dr. Maren Wood. I'm one of the psychiatrists on staff here. Would you please sit down?"

Tim sat down, feeling unaccountably tense.

"Now, let's just go over what will happen."

"I check in. I'm here. What else is there?" Tim mumbled.

"Well, not exactly. We have a report from Dr. Mallard, here, but we require all new patients go through a 72-hour observation period."

"What does that mean?"

"It just means that we'll be admitting you with the stipulation that if we determine this would not be best for you, we might make other arrangements. It's mostly a formality in this case, but can't be missed. You'll be given a room assignment and you'll meet with a psychiatrist, a doctor and be eased into the schedules here. We'll determine what will best suit your needs. This is a place meant to heal and that can't be done by applying a standard treatment to every patient because every patient is different."

"Okay."

"Visiting hours are–"

"I don't want visitors," Tim said. "So the hours don't matter."

"All right. Then, why don't you two say your good-byes and I'll wait outside."

Dr. Wood got up and walked out of the room.

"Timothy?"

"Bye, Ducky," Tim said and stood up.

Ducky stood up as well and caught Tim's arm.

"Wait, lad."

"What?"

"There are a number of people who are always willing to hear from you. Please, don't isolate yourself out of a misguided notion that we don't want to talk to you. We do."

"I'm not."

"All right. Timothy, I'm glad you came to me for help, even if it was only once."

Tim tried to bring out something he could say, but there was nothing. All he wanted was to get started on this whole rigamarole. Might as well.

"Bye, Ducky."

"Good-bye, Timothy. Godspeed."

Tim nodded and walked out of the room.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

When Ducky arrived at NCIS a little later in the day, he was instantly accosted by Tony and Ziva, wanting to know what had happened, if Tim had met with some problem. Gibbs, predictably, said nothing, but he looked up. Even Jamie was interested, although she had no personal stake in what he had to say.

"Timothy decided to voluntarily commit himself to a psychiatric hospital." Ducky held up a hand to keep them from interrupting. "He has not softened toward you all to any degree. He simply has acknowledged that he needs help and is willing to get it. He has not authorized me to tell you, but I wanted to save you gas money driving out to his friend's home. Timothy will not be there."

"For how long?" Tony asked.

"That I couldn't say, Tony. I don't know."

"What caused him to recognize it?" Ziva asked.

"He took an ecstasy tablet which was given to him by Julia Westin, a tablet which was laced with what could have been a lethal dose of PMA. It almost was. I believe that shook him enough to get him to see what was necessary."

"He took it?" Tony asked, shocked.

"Yes."

"On purpose?"

"To the degree that he was thinking clearly, yes."

"He kept something given to him by Julia Westin?" Ziva asked.

"Yes. He said it was intended to kill him; so she, at least, must have suspected something."

There was a long moment of silence.

"I told you everyone screws up something," Tony said finally.

"Is that _really_ your first thought, Anthony?" Ducky asked. "How he messed up?"

Tony had the grace to look ashamed but he didn't answer.

"If Timothy ever _does_ decide that he wishes to speak with any of you again, I'd suggest that you curb your tongue if that is all you can think to say."

There was an awkward pause.

"Are you going to be visiting him regularly?" Ziva asked, if only to break the silence.

"Not at all."

"Why not?" Gibbs asked.

Tony and Ziva both looked at Gibbs in surprise. He had asked a question!

"Timothy has decided that he does not want _any_ visitors at all during his stay there. He was quite adamant and applied it to friends, family _and_ enemies."

"Where is he?"

Ducky relented slightly, but stayed firm. "Leave him be, Tony. Let him get the help he needs. He will contact someone when he is ready to. Trying to get a glimpse or trick your way inside will not help. It would probably not even help you...and it certainly wouldn't help Timothy. Not now. Leave him be."

"All right...All right, Ducky. I guess I'll wait."

Gibbs stood up. "Jamie, go down and check with Abby. See if she's made any headway on that computer. Ziva, Tony..."

"Go and interview Lt. Danson's wife. Yeah, Boss."

As soon as everyone was gone, Gibbs looked at Ducky.

"Yes, Jethro?"

"Is he all right? Physically?"

"He will recover fully from his foolishness."

"How are his bills being paid? He never applied for COBRA after he quit."

"I will be taking care of that today, if Director Vance will assist me."

"If you need any help with the premiums, you can ask me."

Ducky smiled.

"Thank you, Jethro. I most certainly shall."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat in the common area, wondering what he should be doing, thinking...feeling. At the moment, nothing pretty much covered it all.

"Timothy McGee?"

Tim looked over toward the door.

"Hi. I'm William, one of the staff here. Dr. Jacobs will see you now."

Tim hesitated and then stood and followed. He supposed this was the first step.

He wondered how many more there would be.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

_Two months later..._

"Come on in, Tim. Have a seat."

Tim nodded and walked into Dr. Lewis' office.

"I guess you probably know what I wanted to talk to you about."

Tim nodded again.

"Tim, it's been two months since you arrived here. Surely you trust us by now."

Another nod.

"Then, why don't you tell me what you're dreaming about?"

"It's just a nightmare," Tim said, his voice getting louder as he continued. "I can't help screaming. I don't even know I'm _doing_ it until I wake up! I'm not doing it on purpose!"

"Tim, you're not in trouble."

"I'm not?"

"No. I know you can't help screaming in your sleep. That's not why you're here."

"Yeah, right," Tim said bitterly. "If it wasn't that, then what was it?"

"Tim."

Tim sighed and then took a breath and nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I know. There's no reason to think that you're trying to make me look bad."

"The reason I asked you here is because we need to start dealing with the dreams. You've resisted that, but I don't think we can make a lot more progress without addressing what your mind feels is the biggest problem."

"Can't I just go back on the sleeping pills?" he asked plaintively. "It was nice to sleep through the night. I'd...I'd almost forgotten what it was like. It had been so long. It would be easier, wouldn't it?"

"Tim, you know as well as I do that sleeping pills aren't a cure. Eventually, you'll build up a tolerance to them. We don't use them regularly because what needs to happen is that you address your own difficulties and the dreams go away of their own accord. The only reason we were using them in the beginning is because your health was so poor that sleep was more important. You're doing much better on that score. In fact, you have your weekly physical today, don't you?"

Tim nodded. "I think Dr. Westhouse thinks I'm a horse. I'm surprised he doesn't count my teeth."

"The only reason he doesn't is because he already has your dental x rays."

Tim laughed, albeit a little unwillingly.

"Now, Tim. Do you trust me?"

Tim nodded.

"Then, tell me. What is it that you dream about every night? I'm not one of those people who thinks every dream has symbolic meaning, but if you're having the same dreams and those dreams continually terrify you to the point that you're screaming, then there's something that you're holding back, something you're refusing to deal with...and that's what you need to do: deal with it. That's why you're here."

"It's just a dream," Tim said softly.

"That frightens you so much you don't even want to put it into words?"

"I'm not afraid," he said, but without any conviction.

"You are, Tim. Tell me what happens," Dr. Lewis said in a gently cajoling voice.

Tim's eyes dropped to his hands, clenched tightly in his lap.

"You're safe here, Tim. Nothing can happen to you. Just trust me. Tell me what it is that scares you...so I can help."

"They...they always start the same," Tim said hesitantly. "I'm in some dark room. I'm alone...but I can hear her in my ear, whispering words that are just barely not intelligible. She's there...right behind me."

"Who?"

"Jewel. I can't ever see her, but she's always right there." Tim forced a laugh. "She never shuts up. She won't stop whispering."

"Then, what?"

"Then...for some reason, I'm running. People are after me, and...and I can't seem to shake them. I can't even _see_ them! ...but they're there. They're just a few steps behind me...and they won't leave me alone. I try to look back, but I can't. I have to look forward and there's nothing, nowhere to hide." Tim swallowed and took a deep breath. He barely even needed to close his eyes to see the dream, to _feel_ that fear. He shivered and rubbed his arms. "I... I'm cold."

"Do you want a blanket? I keep some in the closet here."

Tim shook his head. The cold was _inside_. A blanket wouldn't help.

"Do they catch you?"

Tim shook his head again.

"No. I fall...and land in a...a place...I'm surrounded by mirrors. I can see myself in the mirrors, but it's not just me. It's...It's more than that. It's me doing...all sorts of things. I...I couldn't...couldn't stand to see them; so I started to shoot them." Tim closed his eyes and tried to shake away the vision he could see. "...but the mirrors wouldn't break. They won't break! They just... They just started to...to _bleed_! They cracked and...and they were bleeding! All this blood running down the mirrors, following the cracks from where I shot them. ...and...and then I looked at myself. I'd...I'd been shooting myself when I shot the mirrors!" He swallowed and tried not to shake. "...and all the time I can hear her in my ear, always whispering."

Tim forced another laugh and looked up. He couldn't seem to make his hands stop moving. It was like they had a life of their own.

"That's it. Just a dream."

"What is it that you see yourself doing in the mirrors, Tim?"

"Things."

"What kind of things?"

"Bad things, okay?" Tim said angrily and stood up.

"Like what?" Dr. Lewis asked calmly.

"Like..." Tim began to pace and his voice was loud and raw. "Like...getting people killed! Like getting people hooked on drugs! Like breaking the law I'm supposed to uphold! Like being...being the villain! Like being a traitor, being a murderer, being a liar, being..."

"Tim?"

"Like..." Tim sank back down onto the chair. "Like being...a failure."

For a long moment, he couldn't say anything more. ...and he swallowed hard, trying to not cry.

"...and I'm always alone...except for that voice...telling me that it's me doing all that...but it's not. It can't be. ...but I'm alone."

He rubbed at his forehead with the heels of his hands.

"Tim..."

"What?" he asked, the single word bursting out of him in something akin to a shriek.

"Thank you for telling me."

"Yeah...right. Whatever." Tim shivered again...and then had to wipe a hand across his face to get rid of the moisture that had accumulated around his eye.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"There are two things I want you to consider in light of what you told me."

"What?"

"First, I'd like you to consider lifting the restriction you've placed on having visitors."

"Why?"

"Because eventually, you're going to have to leave here and go back to your life and it will be easier if you have friends and family you're already interacting with. Think about it."

"Okay. What's the other thing?"

"We need to start talking about your feelings towards your teammates."

"No!" Tim leapt to his feet again. "You said that we could deal with what I was ready to deal with! I'm not ready! I don't want to forgive them! I don't want to stop hating them! I don't want to..."

"...face what they did and how you reacted to it?" Dr. Lewis asked.

"You're making it sound like it's all my fault! Well, it's not! It's not all my fault! It's _not_! It's _their_ fault!" Tim realized that he was almost screaming at Dr. Lewis and he was just sitting there waiting for him to finish. He turned around and walked to the heavy punching bag in the corner of the office and punched it once. Then, he leaned his head against it and tried to calm down.

"Tim, is that what I said?" Dr. Lewis asked after a few minutes of silence.

"No," Tim said, still leaning against the bag. "No, it's not."

"Do you think that's how I feel about your situation?"

"No."

"Okay. When you're ready, why don't you come back over here and sit down and we can try again."

"Okay."

"Whenever you're ready."

Tim stayed at the bag for about ten minutes, although he didn't hit it again. He knew that his reaction had been uncalled for. He supposed that was progress of a sort...but his hatred was so instant, so easy.

Finally, he walked back and sat down.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"That's all right. I accept your apology."

Tim winced. Apologizing felt wrong.

"Now, as I was saying, we need to discuss it, because like it or not, your feelings towards your team are part of the driving force behind your nightmares and until we deal with it, they're not going to go away. I'm not saying that you have to like them, Tim. That's not a requirement, but you do need to understand your own feelings and you do need to figure out how to deal with what you feel. Otherwise, you'll never get through this...and that's what you're trying to do."

Tim was silent.

"Think about it. Let me know what you've decided at our session on Thursday."

Tim nodded.

"Now, go let Dr. Westhouse look you over."

Tim was able to muster up a weak smile and stood up to leave.

"Tim, you're not in trouble, okay?"

"Okay."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Ah, Timothy McGee! My favorite regular patient!" Dr. Westhouse declared as Tim walked in. That was his usual greeting. Tim didn't know if he did that for everyone. It didn't particularly matter. Dr. Westhouse was so jovial that it was hard not to respond to his childlike exuberance, even as he poked and prodded...and asked rather embarrassing questions.

"Hop on up, Tim!"

"Can't we just get the weighing over with? I know that's what you want to see most," Tim said.

"Ah-ah! We must marshal our impatience. The reward will be all the sweeter for it."

Tim rolled his eyes and then sat down. He pulled off his shirt and let the doctor take his blood pressure, check his respiration, his pulse, his throat and everything else. He tutted about Tim's continued scrawniness but said nothing. Tim took that as a good sign. Dr. Westhouse had literally counted Tim's ribs one by one during his first examination.

"I heard that you had another rough night."

"Yeah."

"Well, we can't win 'em all at once."

"Yeah."

"I know. I know. You just want to see what your weight is, too. You can't fool me, young man. All right. Over to the scale and let us see what progress you have made."

Tim gladly got off the table and stepped on the scale. Then, he watched as Dr. Westhouse moved the sliders around. As he did every time, he bumped the big slider to 150 and tsk-ed when it was too heavy. Tim smiled, used to this by now. He had been offended the first time.

Down to 100...and then the smaller slider. Again, he pushed it all the way to the 50 side and then tsk-ed again when it was too heavy. Back. Back. Back. Back. Tim had nearly screamed in frustration the first time Dr. Westhouse has gone through all this. Back. Back. Back.

"Here we are. Not as much weight gain in the last couple of weeks."

"I stopped taking the sleeping pills."

"Ah. Well, we can't let your nightmares spoil your weight gain. You're almost to the range we like to see for someone of your height and build. One-forty is not bad, certainly better than you were, but we'd like to see that up a bit higher still."

"We?"

"Well, I'm assuming that you'd like a bit of extra flesh on you as well."

"I didn't really think about it before."

"Well, now you can. I give you permission to think about your weight. You certainly are looking much better now that there's some flesh to cover your bones. Yes, Tim, I'm most happy with your progress. It's not perfect, but no one is. Thank goodness. How boring that would be. Now, I don't need to tell you to avoid obsessing about your weight, but make sure you eat every meal and don't skip any! I know all...and I know you've skipped a few!" He shook his finger at Tim in mock-reproach.

"I thought you said no one was perfect."

"I'm not perfect, but I still know everything. My flaws exist in other areas. ...like my waistline."

Tim couldn't help it. He laughed.

"That's the spirit! Go forth and conquer, Tim!"

Tim pulled back on his shirt and left the examination room, feeling somehow less upset about Dr. Lewis' requests than he had before.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Over the next couple of days, Tim thought a lot about what Dr. Lewis had asked of him. He wasn't sure he agreed, but his sudden outburst had taken him by surprise. The depth of his own hatred had been a bit of a shock. He hadn't been forced to think about it for weeks and so to have it come back...and to come back so vehemently, was a surprise.

On Thursday, he went to meet with Dr. Lewis.

"Dr. Lewis?"

"Yes, Tim?"

"Okay."

"About what in particular?"

"Both of the things you asked me before."

"You're willing to receive visitors?"

"Yes."

"And you're willing to start discussing your feelings about your team?"

Tim clenched his teeth but then nodded.

"Yes."

"Okay. Would you like me to call?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Have a seat. Let's get started, shall we?"

"Okay."


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

_Two weeks later..._

"Tim, you up for yet another visitor?"

Tim smiled at the way William had phrased his question. Since lifting his restriction on visitors, Tim hadn't been inundated, but there had been at least one person nearly every day. His parents had come a couple of times. Ducky had come. His parents had come. Ducky had come. Jimmy had come once, spoken very awkwardly and then left. Ducky had come. It was getting to the point that he was wondering if it would be Ducky or his parents.

"Ducky or my parents?"

"Neither."

Tim's smile vanished.

"Who is it, then?"

"They say they're your friends. Why don't you go and find out?"

Tim nodded but was less-than-enthused.

"Hey, don't look like that! You don't have anything to worry about. I'm sure of it."

Tim stood up and walked to the waiting room. He was nervous. Who could it be coming here to see him? He started chewing the inside of his cheek as he walked through the hall. He could hear voices on the other side of the door...but they were too soft to tell who they were.

_Not NCIS people then. They're not ever soft,_ Tim thought bitterly...and opened the door.

"Tim!"

"Matt!" Tim said in surprise. "Judith...what are you doing here?"

Matt stood up, smiling with obvious relief. "Seeing you, of course. Why else would we be here?"

"...but...you were on vacation," he said blankly.

"Yeah, well, we've been back for a couple of weeks already."

"Why?"

"First things first," Matt said. "Can we hug you yet or is that still taboo?"

Tim smiled hesitantly.

"I...I guess that's okay."

Matt hugged him briefly and then Judith moved in and hugged him more tightly. She let him go and looked at him.

"Tim, you're still so skinny!"

"I've gained weight, believe it or not," Tim said, trying not to be uncomfortable.

"Really? ...you must have looked _terrible_ because you're about as skinny as you were before we left!"

"Hey, I hit 143 yesterday. That's up thirteen pounds from when I checked in."

Judith hugged him again. "I can't believe we left you like that, Tim! I had no idea it was that bad!"

"You shouldn't have," Tim said, gently extricating himself from her arms. "I wouldn't have accepted help even if you'd offered it then."

"Well, do we talk here or do we go somewhere else?"

"It's a nice day. We can go out on the grounds," Tim said, feeling awkward. "Follow me." He turned around and walked out of the room.

Matt and Judith flanked him as they walked out onto the back lawn.

"Hey, Tim...I'm _so_ sorry about the shower. I can't believe that happened."

"It's not your fault," Tim murmured. "You didn't build the shower. You didn't break it. You weren't even in the country when it happened."

"Still...Ducky told me what happened and...and, man, I..."

"It's okay, Matt. Really. ...actually, it was probably a good thing."

"A _good_ thing?"

"Yeah...I wouldn't have ever asked anyone for help if it hadn't happened." Tim swallowed and sped up a little bit. "It took something like that to force me to accept that it was a good idea to get help from someone...anyone. Even then...it still took me being the colossal idiot of the century to get me to accept coming here." He gestured grandly. "And look at all I would have missed."

The slight sarcasm didn't pass unnoticed.

"Sorry. So...what brought you back here early? I hope it wasn't me." He sat down and gestured to them.

"No, Tim. Sorry, but you're not always what we're thinking of," Matt said.

Tim smiled. "Then, what was it?"

"Well...we don't know for certain yet. She could back out...like the others have but..."

Tim grinned. "You're getting a baby?"

Judith smiled and nodded. "Yes. A teen up in New York. The baby is due next month. If all goes well...we'll get to adopt our first...finally."

"That's wonderful," Tim said, sounding completely sincere. No cynicism. "You guys deserve it."

"Thanks. We haven't told everyone yet," Matt said. "My family, of course...and a couple of close friends...but we're keeping it secret until we know for sure it's going to happen."

"Well, I'm not likely to tell anyone except my fellow inmates," Tim said, but then covered the sarcasm quickly. "And have they planned everything for you yet?"

Matt gave him a knowing glance and then chuckled. "Just about. You know my mom. She won't be happy until everyone has given her multiple grandchildren. Even if this one does go through, she'll start asking when we'll be adopting another."

Tim hesitated and looked at Judith who just shook her head. "My family didn't acknowledge the message...as I expected, but I had to try."

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged even as her smile became slightly strained. "I knew what to expect when I made my decision to be baptized. They told me in very clear terms just what they thought of me and my beliefs. I've hoped for some softening, but there's time. Meanwhile, I just keep trying. Regardless, I'm very happy about the possibility of finally having a child...and at least they know that much."

"I hope everything works out as it should."

"Thank you, Tim."

Matt leaned forward. "Speaking of work, Tim...can I ask you a sensitive question?"

"Sure...I may start shouting at you, but I shouldn't try to hit you or anything." Tim managed a weak smile.

"You're not kidding."

Tim shook his head. "No. I'm not...but ask away."

"NCIS?"

Tim felt his hands clench into fists. "Yeah?"

"Are you going to go back there when you get out of here?"

Tim looked at his hands and laughed a little. "Obviously, I'm not ready quite yet."

"Tim," Matt said seriously.

"No. Probably not. Right now, I can't fathom ever wanting to go back there again. Too much...There's too much that happened...and _didn't_ happen there. There's too much that I can't tolerate. I'd be a poison to NCIS. My anger and hatred would contaminate everything there. ...and it wouldn't be good for me either. Right now, I think of the people there and I want to scream. I think of them and what happened and I want to hit something."

"But when you're better..."

"Look, I said _no_, all right?" Tim said, angrily...and then sighed. "Sorry. See what I mean?"

Matt extended a hand and then let it drop. "Yeah. I see. _I'm_ sorry. Do you have any plans?"

"Besides seeing how long they'll let me stay here?"

"_Let_ you stay? I didn't think you wanted to be here."

"I didn't. Now, I do." Tim looked around. "It's safe here. _I'm_ safe here. ...everyone is safe from me."

"I don't think you're a danger, Tim," Matt said.

"That's because you're a good person. ...but no, I don't really have any plans. I guess I'll have to get a new job eventually. Not sure what I'll do. NCIS was my goal, but...kind of lost that now and so..."

"Well, when you get released, why don't you come and stay with us while you're figuring out your future?" Judith suggested. "It would save you some money...and I'm guessing that you'll still be coming here sometimes?"

"Yeah, I will. All day at first and then just sessions later on. ...then, I'll be magically cured!" He smiled sardonically and then shook his head, staring up at the perfect blue sky. "You sure you want to risk me being there?"

"What would the risk be?" Matt asked.

"You'd have a mentally-unstable, unemployed nut living with you. That might not look very good to the adoption people."

"No...we'd have our good friend, Tim McGee, staying with us."

He kept his gaze upward and away from his friends. "It's a nice offer...but I'm not likely to need it for a while."

"The offer is always open if you're interested."

"Thanks."

Matt and Judith left soon after that with the promise that they'd keep coming to bug him. Tim smiled and waved as they left...and then sat down and sighed. The comparison between himself and Matt was all too obvious. Matt was married, had a job, was going to have a child. He was happy.

"...and what do I have?" Tim asked himself. "Nothing."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Five days later..._

"Dr. Lewis, come quick. We can't wake him up!"

Dr. Lewis was alert in an instant and followed Mira through the halls. He knew where they were headed. The shouting and screaming was audible.

"Do you know what happened?" he asked.

"No! He'd been doing so much better lately... He didn't seem any different at lights out."

Dr. Lewis nodded and walked into the room.

"Stop! No! Please!" Tim's eyes were open now, but he was still asleep. Tears were streaming down his face. "Just die!"

"Tim," he said calmly. "Come on, now. You're all right. You're safe. Come out of the dream. It's all right."

He leaned over and turned on the lamp and kept talking. He didn't shake Tim, but he persisted in trying to get him to wake up and finally, he saw Tim's eyes actually focus on him.

"She wouldn't die! I kept shooting her, but she wouldn't die! I couldn't get her to die!" He was shaking like a leaf and he was terrified. "She just kept coming. She wouldn't stop...stop coming. She kept...kept on coming. I couldn't keep her away!"

"It's all right, Tim," Dr. Lewis said again. "Here, sit up."

Tim allowed himself to be pulled into a sitting position, still shaking, still frightened...not fully awake.

"Remember how to breathe, Tim. Slowly. In and out."

Proving that he _had_ learned something, Tim nodded and began trying to use the tricks that would help him calm down. Then, when he had, he looked away, ashamed at what had happened.

"Is this a new dream?"

He nodded and shivered.

"Tell me."

"No. I don't want to."

"Tell me, Tim. What happened?"

Tim shook his head and wiped his eyes with the back of one shaking hand.

"No."

"Tim, what happened? What was different?"

"I shot her. Over and over again."

"Who?"

"J-Jewel. It started...like...like the old dream. ...but then... She was standing there, laughing at me, saying that...that I was just like her and then she had a gun. I shot her. I tried to stop her...but she wouldn't stop and she started...w-walking toward me." He swallowed. "She shot me. Over and over...just like I had done to her." The tears started again. "She kept saying that I was just like her. She kept talking. She wouldn't stop...even when I shot her in the face. She just wouldn't stop. ...and I couldn't stop."

Dr. Lewis looked back over his shoulder. Mira was still there.

"Mira, go to the cabinet and get one of them."

Mira nodded and left.

"Is that everything, Tim?"

"I couldn't die, either," he said in a small voice. "I was bleeding. She wasn't. I was. ...but I wasn't dying. She was just shooting me...even her face was gone." His own face crumpled and he was crying again.

Dr. Lewis could tell how bad it had been because Tim couldn't stop crying. He didn't like to cry, particularly not in front of other people, but he was crying now. It had been a bad dream. Mira came in quietly and set the requested item on the table.

"Thank you, Mira. Go and make sure there hasn't been any great upheaval."

She smiled and left.

"I'm sorry," Tim whispered through his tears. "I'm sorry. I couldn't stop screaming."

"It's all right."

"Can I please just..."

"No, Tim. That's not the way to deal with it."

"It works."

"Only temporarily."

"Who cares?"

"I do...and you will, too, when it stops working."

"No. I just want it to stop... now."

"I know you do, Tim, but you want to stop for good...not just a temporary cover. You need the real deal."

Tim whimpered and closed his eyes as he began shaking his head.

"Just make it go away. I just want it all to go away. Go away. Go away."

"It doesn't work like that, Tim. You know that. It takes time."

Tim shook his head again.

"Now, it's about two-thirty. You need to get more sleep than that."

"I don't want to go to sleep again."

"I understand, but you need to. Let's just try."

Another shaking of the head.

"Now, I know this will make you laugh, but here's the first step. Take this."

Tim opened his eyes and looked...did a double-take and then looked at Dr. Lewis who smiled.

"I'm not five years old," Tim said with just a touch of his old arrogance.

"No, you're not. You're a grown man in desperate need of something comforting."

Tim looked again.

"It's a teddy bear."

"Yes, it is," Dr. Lewis said smiling. Already, Tim's mind was being distracted from his terror. "Take it."

"And call you in the morning?"

Dr. Lewis chuckled. "If that works for you. Take the teddy bear."

Tim reached out and took the teddy bear from Dr. Lewis' hands. It was a nice bear. Soft fur and a deep green color. Just the right size for an adult to hold.

"Give it a hug."

"You're not serious."

"Totally."

Hesitantly, Tim pulled the bear close to his chest and hugged it. He looked embarrassed, but he didn't let the bear go.

"Now, lie down."

Instantly, he was afraid.

"Just lie down, Tim. I'm not even asking you to sleep."

Tim lay down on his side, still holding the bear.

"Now, let's just talk for a while. Not about anything in particular."

"Like what?"

"How about the kind of music you prefer?"

Dr. Lewis kept Tim talking, but let long pauses creep in as the night continued on. Tim's eyes started to close after about an hour, and the pauses became longer. Finally, at quarter to five, Tim was fully asleep, still clutching the teddy bear tightly, but asleep. Dr. Lewis gave a tired sigh and stood up. He quietly crept out of the room. William was on shift.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

Dr. Lewis yawned. "He's asleep at least. Which is what I'm going to be in about five seconds. Um...don't wake Tim up with everyone else. Let him sleep if he will. His lamp is still on, but his curtains are closed. Don't wake _me_ up unless you have to."

"All right. Good morning, Dr. Lewis."

Dr. Lewis rolled his eyes and went back to his bed, the cot in the on-call room he had vacated more than two hours before.

Tim was a hard patient to have sometimes.


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

_One week later..._

Tim walked out to the large open yard behind the hospital. It was beautiful. A small copse of trees was in one corner. Bushes cleverly disguised the walls keeping people confined... keeping the world out or keeping the crazies in, Tim wasn't sure. He headed for the trees, knowing that no one else would be there at this time of day. He lay on the ground staring up at the sky, his hands behind his head. There were lovely white clouds and he watched them as they moved slowly across the sky, slowly molded into different shapes. It was times like this he could pretend that there was nothing happening, nothing wrong. He could just...just lay on the grass. That was all.

"Tim?"

A shadow fell across his face and he squinted.

"Hey, Mom. What are you doing out here?"

"We stopped by to visit. Dr. Lewis said you were out here. I hope you don't mind us just coming instead of letting you choose."

Tim laughed a little. "Why would I mind? It's not like I have a whole lot of choices here."

Naomi crouched down. "Would you come over to the bench so your father can talk too? It was just a bit too rough to get to you and we can sit instead of towering over you."

"Sure. Okay." Tim got up, but stood just a bit away from his mother as they walked over to the bench where Sam was waiting in his wheelchair. He sat down on one end and looked at them both only indirectly. "What's up?"

"A few things. First, we'd like to ask you a favor."

Tim laughed again. "I hope it's not to run any errands or anything. I'm a bit confined...unless you want me to break into the drug cupboard."

"Tim," Sam said with a hint of reproof.

"Sorry, Dad," Tim mumbled. "What do you want?"

"We'd like you to call Sarah. We can pay for the cost of the call, but she needs to hear from you."

"Why? She knows where I am. It's not like I can get into much trouble here."

"She loves you, Tim. She misses you. She's been really worried about you," Sam said. "Will you call your sister?"

"If that's what you want me to do," Tim said, staring at his hands.

"Don't _you_ want to?" Naomi asked, leaning toward him.

Tim scooted away from her.

"Sure."

"That's not an answer."

"Tim, what's wrong?" Naomi asked. "Are you afraid of me?"

Tim shook his head.

"Not you."

"Then, who, Tim?"

He shook his head again.

"Tim..."

"I don't have to tell you!" Tim said loudly and stood up. "Okay? I don't! I have to tell Dr. Lewis when he asks me questions, but I don't have to tell _you_! Leave me alone! It's none of your business!"

He started to walk away, but he stopped before he'd gone two feet. He stared at the ground.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he whispered. "You're not like them. I know that...but I keep forgetting."

"Like who, Tim?" Naomi asked softly.

"Them. At NCIS. My team." Tim sat back on the bench but he wouldn't look at his parents. He looked at his hands instead. White knuckles and all. "I've been so...so mad at them." He laughed. "Mad...that doesn't even come close to encompassing how I felt. How I feel. I could hear that they had all died horrible deaths and I'd be happy about it, not sad. They didn't care one bit about me all during that operation and I saved their lives...and they didn't care. All they wanted was for me to mess up. I didn't and so it wasn't enough. ...only I did. They just didn't care enough to notice."

He saw Sam's hand touch his.

"'Anger is never without a reason but seldom with a good one.' Benjamin Franklin."

"Yeah, and 'whatever begins in anger ends in shame.' What did Benjamin Franklin know?" Tim said, pulling his hands away.

"Elliot Larson said that "anger always comes from frustrated expectations.' Is he right?"

Tim stood up again and started pacing. "Don't I have the right to be frustrated? Was it too much to ask that they simply do their jobs and _help_ me a little? Was that too much to ask?" he asked, swallowing the tears that had unexpectedly come to his eyes.

"Are you conceding?"

"NO!" Tim stopped pacing. "Aristotle. 'Anyone can become angry - that is easy, but to be angry with the right person at the right time, and for the right purpose and in the right way - that is not within everyone's power and that is not easy.' I know who I'm angry at and why."

"In the right way, though, Tim?" Sam asked. "'Anger blows out the lamp of the mind.' Robert Green Ingersoll."

"'The world _needs_ anger. The world often continues to allow evil because it isn't angry enough!' Bede Jarrett."

Sam grabbed Tim's arm. "'How much more grievous are the consequences of anger than the causes of it,'" he said earnestly. "Seneca."

"'At the core of all anger is a need that is not being fulfilled.' Marshall B. Rosenberg." He pulled his arm away.

"'Anger is a killing thing: it kills the man who angers, for each rage leaves him less than he had been before - it takes something from him.' Louis L'Armour."

Tim looked at Sam for a long moment, blinking furiously. Nothing was coming to his mind. Nothing at all.

"Then...Then, maybe there's nothing left of me!" he shouted finally and tried to walk away.

Sam grabbed his arm again and Tim tried to pull away.

He pulled too hard...and Sam landed hard on the sidewalk ...but he did let go of Tim's arm. ...but Tim didn't leave. Instantly, he was on the ground, trying to help Sam back up to his chair.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Dad," he said, and he was crying. "I didn't mean to! I..."

Naomi quickly righted the chair and Sam was back in his rightful place again, but Tim fell to his knees and began to sob, his head in Sam's lap.

"It's all right, Tim. I know you didn't mean to," Sam said.

Finally a new quote came to Tim's mind. "H-Horace. 'Anger is m-m-momentary... madness, so control your passion... or it will c-control you.' I'm sorry!"

He felt Sam's hand on his head as he continued to cry.

"Tim, it's okay."

"No! No, it's not okay! Everything I touch...I ruin it! I destroy things! I hurt people! I...I hurt _you_! I'm so sorry, Dad. I so sorry."

Tim felt hands on his arms, strong fingers tightening around his skinny arms and forcing him to stand.

"Tim, it was an accident," Sam said firmly. "Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. It's not a crime. You apologized and it's okay. I wasn't even hurt."

Tim shook his head. "No. It doesn't matter. It's still not okay."

Naomi put an arm around him and directed Tim back to the bench.

"Tim, you're shaking like a leaf. It's all right. No, you shouldn't have pulled so hard, but your intention wasn't to knock your father over and that matters."

Tim put his hands on his head and wouldn't look at them. He couldn't bear it.

"I'll...I'll call Sarah...if you want me to."

"No, Tim. That's not how it works. You don't do something because we guilted you into it. I had hoped that you would _want_ to talk to your sister...not that you're going to do it because you feel bad about pulling Sam out of his chair."

"I...I don't know what I want. Everything is so...so mixed up in my head. Sometimes, things make sense...but other times...I just...I just hate everyone and everything...because it's so much easier. I just want to get away."

He felt hands on his again, pulling them away from his face.

"Tell us what happened, Tim."

Tim lifted his head again and shook it. "Dorothy Dix. 'Confession is always weakness. The grave soul keeps its own secrets, and takes its own punishment in silence.'"

Sam smiled a little. "Thomas Kempis. 'The acknowledgment of our weakness is the first step in repairing our loss.'"

"I can't think of any more."

"How about this one? 'You cannot run away from weakness; you must some time fight it out or perish; and if that be so, why not now, and where you stand?' Robert Louis Stevenson."

"Tell us what's going on in your head, Tim," Naomi said. "Let us in."

"I don't want to," Tim said and started to stand up again.

"You have to fight some time, Tim. Why not start now?" Sam said.

"It's nothing."

"Nothing?" Naomi repeated. "Nothing is what got you to commit yourself to a psychiatric hospital for two months so far? Nothing is what has changed you so drastically? Tim, it wasn't nothing."

Tim tensed up and only relaxed when Naomi let him go again.

"Tell us, Tim. We aren't going to judge you, and we won't hurt you."

Tim stared at his hands.

"Do I have to tell you everything?"

"You don't _have_ to tell us _anything_, Tim," Sam said. "We just want to know...so we can help you...any way we can."

"Some of the things I did...they were wrong."

"That's all right. We may not agree with what you did, but we won't disown you. I promise," Sam said.

Tim forced a laugh.

"Just start, Tim. We'll listen," Naomi said.

"Okay. I was undercover."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They talked for more than an hour, and Tim skipped over a few things...but he did talk. Then, they all headed back into the hospital and toward the exit. Tim stopped before the main hallway.

"Mom?"

"Yes, Tim?"

"I'll call Sarah. Tomorrow. I promise."

"When you're ready, Tim," Sam said.

"I'll call her." Tim looked at Sam. "I'm really sorry, Dad."

"It's all right, Tim."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Have you checked on Tim lately?" Dr. Lewis asked.

"Only at lights out. All's quiet in that corner," William said. "Isn't Dr. Wood on call tonight?"

"No. She had to reschedule. Family crisis, apparently."

"Okay. You want me to check on him now?"

"I'll do it. If there's going to be a problem, maybe I can forestall it now and get a good night's sleep."

"Dolores might cause some problems."

"I know, but hers are usually much more easily fixed. She doesn't generally wake up the rest of the ward when she has a problem."

"You need me to take over, just call."

"Will do."

Dr. Lewis headed down the hallway to Tim's room. It had been quiet, but it was early yet in the night. Lots of time for another nightmare. He looked into Tim's room and was surprised to see him sitting up, holding the teddy bear tightly in his arms, staring straight ahead. Almost motionless. He knocked on the window and was gratified that Tim was only slightly startled. His instinctive fear of someone approaching was ebbing. Slowly, but considering he'd had over a month after the operation was over to solidify that response, it was quite the achievement. Tim looked at him and then sighed and looked away again. Dr. Lewis knocked again. Tim didn't look back but he nodded.

He opened the door.

"It's pretty late, Tim."

"Yeah. ...but it's quiet, right? We don't have an appointment until tomorrow."

"I know. I'm just checking up on you."

"Because it's so quiet?"

"You need to sleep, Tim."

Tim shook his head. "I don't want to. My whole life is a nightmare. I know what I'll see when I close my eyes. Why not just live with one nightmare? Why let more than that in? I can just stay awake...not have to see it anymore. ...and if I stay awake long enough, I won't notice reality either."

"Tim, that's not the way to solve your problems."

"It's _a_ way. It will work," Tim said and surreptitiously wiped away a tear.

"Is this about what happened with your parents today?"

"Sure. It's about that. It's about dreaming of killing people and being killed. It's about hurting people who don't deserve it. It's about the _idiocy_ of the people I was supposed to be able to trust to keep me from turning out like this. It's about the fact that no one cared enough to help me. It's about the nightmares. It's about reality. It's about the fact that I'm a complete nut who decided that it would be better to be angry than to accept anything else...and now can't _stop_ being angry even when my family is just trying to help. It's about being afraid of everyone...not because of anything they're doing but because of what _I_ did."

Dr. Lewis was a bit surprised at how much Tim was talking, but he hid that and simply capitalized on Tim's uncommonly-talkative mood.

"That's a lot to deal with, Tim."

Tim started to laugh...and then to cry.

"I want to be back to normal. I want to be who I used to be." He looked at Dr. Lewis. "I made the choice to _not_ be angry. I chose to let it go. Why can't I do that _now_? Why is it that this time, when it's so much worse...when _I'm_ so much worse...why can't I make that choice now? Why do I have to be so afraid and so mad and...and be _this_ person?" He wiped his eyes on the teddy bear. "Why am I still Thomas?" he asked in a whisper.

"You're not Thomas, Tim."

"Yes, I am! That's what Gibbs said to me!" The anger was back swiftly at the mention of his former boss. "But he was wrong! Because Thomas is me! He always _has_ been!"

"No, Tim. _You're_ wrong. Right now, you're not Thomas. Would Thomas have regretted the way he acted? Thomas, from how you described him, hated the world. Would he have these problems?"

Tim buried his face in the plush fur of the teddy bear and said something unintelligible.

"What was that?"

"He'd have the problems," Tim said. "The only thing he ever hated more than the world...was himself."

"Why?"

"Because deep inside, he always knew that all the problems he had were really his own fault and that if he...if he was any kind of real man, he'd have been able to avoid them."

"Does he really hate the world, then?"

"Yes. He hates the world for what it did to him. ...and he hates himself for letting it happen."

"Is there any chance for him to forgive the world...or himself?"

Tim shook his head. "No. The world has hurt him one too many times. If the world hates him so much, he's going to hate the world...and himself. ...and he's going to be better at it than the world ever could be."

"Then, you're not Thomas, Tim."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you just told me that you want to go back to how you were. Thomas apparently doesn't...if he did, he wouldn't _be_ Thomas, an identity you _created_ based on your own conjecture of the kind of person you could have been. Thomas isn't a real person and while you embraced the ideas you created for a while, the fact that you don't like what you've done in the past and that you want to let it go...all of that tells me you _aren't_ Thomas Allen MacKay and you don't _have_ to be him. It's a choice you _can_ make."

Tim wiped his eyes on the bear again.

"Then...why haven't I made any progress?"

Dr. Lewis smiled. "You've made a _lot_ of progress, Tim. With the exception of your former coworkers, you aren't _wanting_ to be angry at anyone. You're admitting that there's a problem...and you're _trying_ to fix the problem. That's progress right there."

"Why do I still have the nightmares, then?" Tim asked, more tears taking the place of the ones he'd wiped away. "Why do I lose control?"

"Because you're a human being and humans can't just be reset or reprogrammed. It takes time."

"It's already been months."

"Yes, it has. You can't just look at the time passing. You have to look at what you yourself have been doing. ...and, Tim, you're going to need to face the world again. This isn't a replacement for the world. It's not a hideout. It's a place where we help you on the path toward mental health and work with you to get better."

"But look at what I've done, what I've been doing. It's better for me here."

"For now, yes, it is. But that won't always be the case."

Tim swallowed. "I'm so scared."

"Of what?"

"Of being like this for the rest of my life. I can't see anything else. I can't...I can't even _think_ of...of something like the future. It's just... I'm just..."

"No, Tim, there's nothing wrong with that. It takes time. You have to be patient."

"When will I see something good coming from this?"

"Well...you did get a nice teddy bear out of it."

Tim laughed and looked at the bear...which was rather damp by this point.

"He and Bert could..."

"Bert?"

"Abby...she has...a stuffed hippo. His name is Bert." Another laugh. "They'd probably get along."

"Have you spoken to her at all?"

He shook his head.

"Why not?"

"I don't want to hurt her."

"Why do you think you would?"

"I killed Jewel. I was sleeping with her. I killed her."

"Tim, just because you did that in the course of your duties...that's no indication that you'll kill every woman you see."

"I know."

"...but it doesn't stop you from being afraid, does it."

"No."

"All right. Why don't you try going to sleep?"

"No."

"Tim, do you trust me?"

"Yeah."

"All right. I can't and won't promise that you won't have any nightmares tonight, but I can promise that, even with the nightmares, it's better for you to get some sleep than to try and stay awake."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"I don't know. Does it?"

"Not really."

"You've gone two days without the nightmares, Tim. Try for three."

"And if I fail?"

"It's a not a failure. It just means we'll have to try again."

"Okay. I'll try."

"Good. Go for it. I'm on call again tonight. Not Dr. Wood."

"Thanks."

"It's my job."

Tim smiled unexpectedly. "If you need a letter of reference, I'll be happy to recommend you."

"I'll keep that in mind. Go to sleep."

Tim lay down and clutched the teddy bear to his chest. Dr. Lewis stood up and left the room. Even if Tim couldn't see it, he had made a _lot_ of progress...some of it just during their talk. There was something to be said for perseverance.

When it came to Tim, it was an absolute necessity.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

_Two weeks later..._

"Ducky, how's he doing?" Abby asked, hugging Bert tightly as she sat on her stool.

Ducky smiled. "He's doing much better, Abigail. I think that were he as confident as Dr. Lewis, Timothy would be released and continue to be treated as an outpatient. However, Timothy is holding himself back. He fears returning to how he was before."

"Why?"

"Because he is too near to it and some of the feelings are still there. He does not trust himself to remain in control."

"Is it that dangerous?"

"Oh, no. Not at all. ...but until Timothy trusts himself, he will fail."

"I want to see him."

"You may try, but he may also refuse."

"Why is he scared of me, Ducky?"

"Because he is scared in general. Fear and hatred are often closely linked and he has not yet understood all the facets of his fear...nor of his hatred."

"Does he hate me?"

A long sigh interrupted them. They looked back toward the door. Ziva and Tony stood, almost hesitantly. They had been excluded from most of the discussions about Tim. ...whether intentionally or not was unclear...for all concerned.

"No. You, he does not hate," Ziva said as she joined them. "It is us. We are the ones he hates...for good reason, I think."

Tony nodded as he followed Ziva in. "Yeah. I think we did about as much as he thinks we did."

"That was really specific, Tony," Abby said, with a trace of bitterness. "I'll bet Tim could elaborate."

"Yeah...he probably could," Tony said, grimacing. He looked at Abby, eyes wide. "I honestly didn't..." He trailed off.

"Didn't what?" Abby asked. "Didn't think that it mattered whether or not Tim knew you trusted him? Didn't think it mattered that Tim was angry?"

"He has _been_ angry before," Ziva said, defensively. "It never lasted. He knew that we had his back before. I do not understand why this was so different."

"When it mattered so much?" Ducky asked. "Have either of you ever questioned each other in such a situation, when you were working together undercover?"

"We were usually working together, both of us."

"Yes, exactly. ...and Timothy was left to fend for himself."

"He wasn't!" Tony interrupted. "We were there the whole time! I mean, we missed that message he left, but it was three in the morning! We weren't ever awake then except when it was necessary! He could have _said_ something!"

"What did you expect?" Ducky asked. "That he would be able to tolerate the stress of being deep undercover while at the same time battling your petty disagreements? Your undercover mission for Director Shepard was difficult, was it not?"

Tony shrugged uncomfortably at the reminder. "Yeah."

"And you were in it mostly on your own which made it even more difficult, I'd wager. You couldn't come to anyone for help."

"No, I couldn't...well, except for Jenny."

"Did you think that was _helpful_ to you? Did it _aid_ you in the successful completion of the operation?"

"Not really."

"Then, _why_, Anthony, did you think that turning the same treatment onto Timothy would be successful? Or even a good idea?"

"Or did you really want him to screw up?" Abby asked.

"No! We didn't want him to mess up!" Tony said instantly.

A long uncomfortable pause.

"At the beginning...I confess that I thought it would be better if he did," Ziva said, finally, guiltily, and then at the looks from Ducky and Abby, she continued, "...but only because I assumed that if he messed up later he would be killed! It would be better for him to mess up early on."

"...and get someone more experienced in there," Tony said, almost in a whisper.

"I don't see that that's much better than wanting him to fail," Abby said. "In fact, I think that's pretty...pretty scummy. I thought you _liked_ Tim, Ziva! You guys are always so...buddy-buddy and stuff. ...and Tony, you're the senior agent! You know that it takes time to build up experience!"

"Why would you begrudge Timothy that chance?" Ducky asked.

"...and how could you even _think_ that?" Abby demanded.

Ziva looked at Tony helplessly.

"We didn't really, I guess," Tony confessed. "...but I never...never thought that..."

"That Tim would _mind_?" Abby asked.

"It didn't hurt me!"

"You just said that you didn't think it helped," Ducky said.

"But it didn't really _hurt_! I got through it all fine. I didn't go nuts. I didn't punch anyone in the face. Why was it such a big deal to McGee? If he was going to build up experience, it shouldn't have been with this! That was Vance's mistake!"

Abby suddenly threw Bert at Tony. It hit him in the face and made the obligatory sound. "Did _that_ hurt, Tony?"

Tony stared at Bert on the floor, obviously shocked. "Uh...no."

"Did you _like_ it?" she asked, hands on her hips.

"Not particularly."

"Would you want me to do that to you every day?"

"No."

She stood up and stalked over to where Bert lay on the floor. "I'm sorry for throwing you, Bert. You had to teach Tony a lesson."

"It's not the same thing, Abbs!" Tony said, a bit angrily. "I know that we weren't exactly the nicest, but it's not like we were much worse than we've been in the past! We always tease him! That's how we...we _do_ things!"

"So you're jerks all the time and finally it pushed him over the edge?" Abby asked.

"No!"

Abby put Bert on the counter and rounded on the two of them. "You're not making me feel any better, Tony. With what...what you're both saying... How can we even...even expect to get Tim back? I mean...I mean he _has_ to come back! It's Tim! He belongs _here_! ...but if you guys are...if you really don't see the problem, I can't ask him to come back because that would be wrong. ...and I have to ask him to come back! I miss him!" She sighed and picked Bert up again. "I miss him," she said, hugging Bert tightly.

Another long silence and then Ziva sank down onto a stool and stared at the floor.

"I miss him, too, Abby," Ziva said.

"Not enough, obviously."

"Abigail, that will not help," Ducky said gently. "This cannot devolve into bitter recriminations. What is done, is done. All we can do now is wait...wait and see if Timothy is willing to forgive, if he can forget what you have done...and what he has done. Both are important, and neither can be forced on him. It has taken a long time to make the progress he has...and no one can force more progress on him."

Ducky looked beyond the semicircle of people to the man standing in the entryway.

"Not even you, Jethro."

Gibbs looked at him and then at the others when they turned back.

"I know that, Duck. We've got a case, a break-in at Quantico."

"Why does that mean us, Boss?"

"Because it was a break-in and attempted theft of classified information. Let's roll."

Tony stood up and sighed. "He's never coming back, is he, Ducky."

"More than likely not, Anthony. It will have to be something he decides, and based on what I have seen, he has no intention of returning. ...and based on what I have heard here, I don't think he _should_."

A long, painful silence.

"Let's go, Tony...Ziva."

There was no impatience with the order, but Tony and Ziva nodded and followed Gibbs out, leaving Abby and Ducky alone again.

"Ducky?"

"Yes, Abigail?"

"Did we...you and I...did we fail somehow, not seeing how bad it was, not making them be better?"

"I don't know, Abigail. Possibly, but as I said, we should not fall back onto recriminations. That includes ourselves. Reflection and understanding are all well and good, but when it turns cruel, be it self-inflicted or otherwise, it loses any value. Reflection leads to positive change. Cruelty does nothing but cause pain."

"But he's doing better?"

"Yes. Yes, he's doing better, Abigail."

Abby hugged Bert again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Go ahead, Tim. You know the procedure," William said.

Tim nodded and swallowed. He had called Sarah as he had promised his parents, but the conversation had been stilted and short. He had promised her that he would call her again. Today. Now. ...and for some reason, he was afraid of doing it. He was afraid of calling Sarah and talking to her.

"Go on. From what you've said, she won't bite."

Tim smiled weakly and picked up the phone.

"Good boy," William said teasingly. "Now, you have as much time as you need. Just let me know when you're done so I can put the phone away."

Tim nodded mutely and began to dial. William closed the door tightly behind him. Tim knew he would be watching just in case something happened, but he wouldn't be listening in. It would just be the occasional glance inside. That was why Tim had to sit facing the window. He finished dialing Sarah's number and waited, listening to the ringing phone.

_What if she doesn't answer? What if she forgot? What if something happened? What if–?_

"_This is Sarah McGee."_

"Hi."

Pause. Very awkward.

"_Timmy?"_

"Yeah. It's me."

"_You called."_

Tim swallowed again. "I said I would."

"_I know. ...but I wasn't sure that you would actually do it. You didn't sound very happy about it. ...actually, you don't now either."_

"Sorry."

"_Tim, if it's so hard for you to talk to me, then you don't have to."_

"It's not that," Tim said, quickly.

"_Then, what is it, Tim?"_

Tim shook his head silently. He didn't know how to answer. "You knew something was wrong, didn't you."

"_Yeah."_

"You knew that just by talking to me."

"_It was obvious when I heard you. The last time you were that angry...you got in as much trouble as the bullies did."_

"Yeah. ...you knew."

"_Yeah. Why is that a problem, Tim?"_

"Because you didn't even have to see me to know."

"_I don't get it."_

Tim felt his throat tighten at the earnest confusion in Sarah's voice. She hadn't always been the nicest of siblings, but she had noticed what his whole team had missed.

"You knew...without seeing me...without talking to me for more than a few minutes. Were you worried?"

"_Yeah. Of course."_

"More than worried?"

"_I was freaked out, Tim. What do you want me to say?"_ Sarah asked, her nervousness giving way to the scared annoyance she often fell back on.

"Nothing, Sarah. There's not a thing that I want you to say."

"_Does that mean you're going to hang up again?"_ she asked, her voice soft.

"Do you really _want_ to talk to me or is it just because you have to?"

"_Tim, you're my brother! You've been scaring us all for weeks. Of course I want to talk to you...but you're not acting like you. You're...you keep asking me questions like I should be giving some specific answer, but I can't! I don't know what the right answers are! I don't know! I'm sorry, Tim! I don't know!"_

Tim laughed sadly. "Would it help if I told you I don't know the answers either?"

Sarah laughed in response. _"Not really."_

"You didn't think much of me when you were little, did you?"

"_What?"_

"When you were little and you saw all the crap I dealt with...and failed to deal with. You probably despised me, huh."

"_I think that's too strong a word, Tim."_

"You weren't impressed, though. I mean, look at how you acted when you came to my apartment. You spent most of the time making fun of my job and what I enjoyed doing. I know you were worried about everything, but that was your default."

"_No, Tim!"_ Sarah said, plaintively. _"That wasn't my default. My default was running to the one person I thought could help. I knew I could say all that to you because you're my brother and you could take it...and I couldn't handle dealing with everything. It was wrong...but it was easier to lay it on you than to deal with it myself. I'm sorry."_

Tim listened to her speak and he wondered what he felt. He didn't know. He didn't even know why he was asking her the questions he was.

"_Tim? Are you still there?"_

"Yeah, I am, Sarah."

"_Can I ask _you_ a question?"_

"Sure. I can't guarantee that I'll answer it though."

"_Okay. You quit NCIS. Will you go back?"_

"I can't answer that, Sarah," Tim said, fighting against the twisting in his gut that accompanied any mention of his former place of employment.

They were both silent for a long time.

"_Okay."_

"Why don't you...tell me about what you're doing? I haven't really heard anything about anyone. I only know that you're in England studying...something."

"_What do you want to know, Tim?"_ Sarah asked, her tone deliberately conversational.

Tim looked up and saw William looking at him, eyebrows raised questioningly. Tim guessed that his inner turmoil must be showing on his face. He tried to smile and William nodded with a significant look.

"How about...everything? Just tell me things...normal things... things normal people do," Tim said and then whispered, "Things...good people do."

"_What, Tim?"_

"Nothing."

"_Okay. Uh...normal things. I'm only here for a few more weeks. They teach a lot differently here than they do in the States."_

"Better?"

"_I don't know. It's just different. There are good and bad things both places. I've only had a few people hate me because I'm American. Most of my classmates don't care. I was cornered by the departmental secretary and asked who I voted for in the last election. I chose not to answer her. It's none of her business!"_

Sarah sounded affronted and Tim smiled...even as he started crying silently, the tears running down his cheeks as he listened to her talk.

"_...and then, you know Dad. All he cared about was if I'd gone to see Winston Churchill's grave in Bladon."_

_A hand caressed his neck, a voice whispering in his ear. Never just a flirtation...always a threat, too._

"Did you go?" Tim asked, amazed that his voice sounded normal.

"_Of course, I did. I had to. I think Dad would have kicked me out, muscled me back onto the plane and not let me return to the U.S. if I hadn't gone and taken pictures."_

_She breathed on his neck, sometimes trailing her fingernails across the nape, hoping to turn him on while he was trying to do the work they'd hired him to do._

"What else have you seen?"

Sarah relaxed into the mode of relating harmless experiences and she talked, seemingly oblivious to Tim's tears. He kept them silent, even as he shuddered under the memories.

"_I went to the Tower of London and even saw the White Tower. That goes all the way back to William the Conqueror."_

_She was fond of turning a threat into a promise of something else...until he didn't know for sure whether she was his girlfriend, his handler or his murderer._

"_I've taken so many pictures that it's a good thing I don't have to use actual film anymore. I'd be using up all my carry-on space just with film cannisters."_

_He spent so much time with her that he almost was certain that he liked her...but then he didn't know...especially when he did everything she wanted him to do..._

"Tim, are you all right?"

Tim looked up briefly at William and shook his head silently but he kept listening to Sarah, even as a scream tried to tear its way out of his throat. He took a deep silent breath.

"It sounds amazing, Sarah."

"_Yeah, I guess you won't have a chance to come and see it yourself."_

"No. I won't."

"_That's too bad. Maybe once you're better and I've figured out my life we can go back and I can show everything to you."_

"Maybe."

_That hand on his neck. It was her favorite place to touch. She seemed to have gotten off on the idea that she had that power over him._

"Sarah?"

"_Yeah, Timmy?"_

Timmy. That meant she had noticed something. Best to end the conversation.

"I've got to go. Therapy. You know."

"_Oh."_ The awkwardness was back as he reminded her that he was in a psychiatric facility. _"Okay. I'll talk to you later, okay?"_

"Yeah. I'll call you again. I promise."

"_When?"_

"I don't know right now." _Please, let me hang up!_ "But I promise that I'll call."

"_Okay. I love you, Tim."_

"Bye, Sarah." Tim hung up, dropped his head into his arms and started to sob.

"Tim, what's wrong?"

Tim jumped to his feet. "Don't touch me! Leave me alone!" He pushed William away and ran out of the room, out of the hospital and as far away from any other human being as he could go.

The problem was that he couldn't get away from his memories which were returning with ever more force the longer he spent here.

"_Don't forget, Mac. You can't get away from me. I'm the one who decides when we're done."_

"_Oh? Don't I get a say?"_

"_Absolutely not." Her arms encircled him and she pulled him close, slid her hands up to his neck, gripping it tightly, painfully. "Now, show me how much you hate me, Mac."_

"_Oh, I don't hate you."_

"_Then, make it convincing. Show me how deep you really are."_

_Thomas smiled and did as she asked._

Waves of loathing washed over him as he remembered it all...and remembered that he had enjoyed it. It made him sick.


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

_Three days later..._

"I'm sorry, Ms. ...Sciuto, was it?"

Abby nodded vigorously, her pigtails hitting her in the face.

"I'm sorry, but Tim has decided he doesn't want visitors again."

"Really? Or is it just because it's me?" she asked glumly.

"No. Really. I've had to turn away his parents and his friend Matt was just in here a few minutes before you." The woman smiled sympathetically. "I'm sorry. He's been doing so well, but something happened that made him isolate himself again. We're working with him and hopefully, he'll be up to visitors again soon."

Abby nodded, much more slowly. "Okay."

"I'm sorry. Progress isn't always constant. There are speed bumps and Tim seems to have hit one of those."

"Thanks. I'll come back later."

Abby turned and trudged out of the hospital. It had taken her so long to get up the courage to try. It figured that it would happen at a time when Tim was rejecting _everyone_.

"You're Abby Sciuto, aren't you."

The voice took her by surprise and she looked up.

"Do I _know_ you? The last time someone said that to me on the street it didn't turn out so well."

The man smiled...as did the woman with him. "My name is Matt. This is my wife Judith. We're friends of Tim's. He's talked about you enough that I figured it was worth taking a chance." He held out his hand.

Abby stared at it for a moment. It was missing the middle three fingers.

"I'm right-handed. Can't seem to break the habit of using it," he said lightly.

Quickly, Abby shook his hand. "You're Tim's friend? The rich one in Maryland?"

Matt laughed at the description.

"Yes, that would be me."

"You got turned away, too?" Judith asked.

Abby sighed. "Yeah. I really wanted to see him. I haven't since he came back from being undercover. ...and he was afraid of me then. I'm not used to Tim being afraid of me. I'm not really very scary."

"Tim gets this way sometimes... Granted, this is worse than _I've_ ever seen him, but I've seen him pretty low, and when he needs the most help, that's usually when he pushes it the farthest away...for fear of being taken advantage of or used or hurt at the last minute. ...or because he feels that he doesn't deserve the help."

"You seem to know him...really well."

"We've been friends since college...and I got to know him at an extremely low point," Matt said. "Tim used to describe himself as a hard friend to have. That's how I met him. Most of the time, he's a great friend. Times like this? It's harder...but I've always told him that he's still a friend worth having. That hasn't changed."

Abby considered that different view of Tim. She'd never really met someone who knew Tim away from NCIS...well, except Tim's family but that was different. ...and these two people seemed so...normal. Matt looked like a stereotypical wealthy white man. Except for his mangled hand, he wasn't exciting to look at. Judith had an accent Abby couldn't quite place and standing next to Matt, her dark skin made her a dramatic contrast to her husband. Where Matt was casual and open, she had an air of sophistication about her coupled with a genuine warmth, a willingness to get to know any person she met. They were an interesting couple, and Abby found herself drawn to them, as Tim probably had been.

"We were hoping to see him before we head up to New York on some...personal business," Judith said, "but it looks as though we'll have wait."

"It was nice to meet you," Abby said sincerely. "Tim's talked about you before but he never really thought of having us all get together."

"Hey...do you have plans for lunch?" Matt asked.

"No."

"Why don't you join us? We can swap stories." He smiled mischievously. "I'd love to hear more about Tim in his work environment. He doesn't ever think much of what he does...at least not enough to bother telling _me_."

"Matt's just jealous that Tim has such an action-packed job while _he_ has to deal with board meetings," Judith said. "It would be wonderful to get to know some of Tim's other friends, though. Would you come?"

Abby hesitated and looked back at the hospital. It was unlikely that Tim would suddenly change his mind. She turned toward Matt and Judith and smiled. "I'd love to!"

"Wonderful! We'll lead the way. You can follow in your car."

"Great!" Abby said, feeling her heart lighten just a little bit.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"He's still hiding?" Dr. Wood asked.

Dr. Lewis nodded. "Yeah. I can't figure it out. From what William said, he went from being fine to suddenly looking devastated in about two seconds. We had a session yesterday, another one today and I couldn't draw him out at all. It's like we suddenly went back in time over two months. I just don't get it, Maren."

Dr. Westhouse nodded. "He's lost weight for the first time since he arrived, and that's a bad sign. He's deliberately _not_ taking care of himself."

"What did he say when you asked him about it, Gerald?"

"Nothing. I couldn't even get him to smile and I'm usually pretty good at that."

Dr. Wood smiled. "You are. Okay. Here's what we know, from what you've said. Tim spoke to his sister and somewhere in the course of that conversation something hit him that has dredged up old familiar pain to the degree that he has felt the need to isolate himself from everyone. He has not shown any sign of paranoia?"

"No. This is...not exactly the same as the beginning was. There's less anger now, but it's still more like he was before than even last week," Dr. Lewis said.

"Daniel, you mentioned before that Tim seems a lot more willing to talk at night."

"Yeah, that's one of the weird things about him. He'll talk during sessions but he's more willing to open up at night."

"Okay. I know it's asking a _lot_ of you to stay on again. You've filled more than your required number of on-call nights this month, but from what you've said, Tim is starting to slip away again...and we can't let that happen if we can prevent it."

Dr. Lewis sighed. "No, I know. It's a good thing I'm not married. I'm sure that if I was, my wife would want to kill me. I'll give it a try tonight after lights out."

"Okay. Now, Dolores."

Dr. Lewis and Dr. Westhouse both groaned. Dr. Wood smiled. "She's doing better. She hasn't tried to flirt with Greg in days."

"I'm just glad that she hasn't discovered Tim yet," Dr. Lewis said. "With how skittish he's been around _any_ female, I don't think he could take her way of dealing with trauma."

"That's a good point. Still, there has been definite progress and her parents are hoping to get her released by the end of the month."

"That's excellent news," Dr. Westhouse agreed.

"All right. Any other problems we need to address right now?"

"Not on my end. Any progress on getting enough funding for another full-time psychiatrist?" Dr. Lewis asked. "I'm getting loaded down."

"Some progress, but not enough to actually get us anyone yet. Therese, Michel, and David are still full up in the secure wing. So...we're going to have to get by until the funding comes through."

"How about part-time even?"

"Paul and Mary will be back soon enough, and we'll have some easing of the crunch."

"In the meantime, I'll be waiting for nightfall," Dr. Lewis said. "In fact, I'm going to take a nap."

Dr. Wood smiled. "Have a nice nap, Daniel."

Dr. Lewis nodded and headed for the cot he'd been sleeping on way too often of late.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"So, how did you meet Tim?" Abby asked. "He just said it was in college, but he never really elaborated on the details. Were you roommates or something?"

Matt smiled. "No. We were..."

"Friends in the making?" Judith suggested with a grin.

"No. Might as well be honest about it. I hated him his first year at MIT."

"Really?" Abby asked in surprise. "Why? What did he do?"

"He very emphatically made clear that he was better than the rest of us."

"Tim?"

"Yeah."

"But...I know Tim has sometimes lorded his MIT degree over the rest of us...but most of the time, especially at the beginning, he was really...timid."

"Yeah. Well...things were different at MIT."

"How?"

"You know that Tim was bullied in high school?"

"Yeah. He doesn't talk about it much. He told me once that it was easier just to forget about those things."

"Well, he was fresh out of high school, away from the bullies...and he seemed to care more about being better than everyone else than he did about making friends...at least that what it looked like to us. So...we didn't like him."

"None of you?"

"Nope. None of us. First year, no one spoke to him if they could help it. Second year...Tim hit his low and I happened to see it. I pitied him and then we ended up kind of becoming friends at the end of the year."

"Only kind of?"

"It's hard to get to real friendship when both parties are aware that it started with hatred and then continued with pity. It was in his third year...and my last year that we really became friends. Judith was finishing up her schooling in England and we were trying to plan our wedding reception in a way that would please my family and us at the same time."

"And your family didn't care?" Abby asked Judith. At the expression on Judith's face, Abby got it. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"What happened? Are they dead?"

"I'm dead to them," Judith said.

Matt slipped an arm around her and held her tightly.

"Can I ask why?" Abby asked tentatively.

Judith nodded. "Tim may not have mentioned it, but Matt and I are LDS... You may have heard of us better as Mormons."

"I've _heard_ of that...but I don't know anything about it."

"That's all right. I was born in Kenya. I met some Mormon missionaries when I was seventeen. I believed them and I got baptized. My family...decided that I had committed the ultimate betrayal and they kicked me out of the house, telling me that if I ever tried to come back, they'd kill me." Judith smiled sadly. "They've never changed their minds although I've tried over the years."

"That's awful. I'm really sorry."

"It's not your fault. I made the decision and while I wish they'd accept me, I'm not willing to give up my faith for that," Judith said and shook off her sadness. "Anyway...once Tim stopped being worried that his only friend would disappear, he pretty much stepped in as my brother."

Abby smiled. That sounded like the Tim she knew. "Did he give you away?"

"It doesn't work like that for an LDS wedding. Tim couldn't come into the temple since he's not a member, but he was my side of the receiving line at the reception. He was still really uncertain, though. It took most of the school year for him to get really comfortable with me. By the end, though, he was making his own friends and he was hanging out, helping Matt with things here...and he was the one who was with me when I called my family in Kenya and listened to them curse my name and then hang up." Judith laughed. "He didn't have a clue what to do with himself while I was crying. He asked if it would help if he gave me a hug. I hugged him...and he let me until Matt got back."

"Do you know why Tim wouldn't want help now?"

"He's afraid of revealing his weaknesses...whatever they are. That's my guess, anyway," Matt said. "When I first knew Tim, he was so unsure of his own worth that he tried to put forth this super-confident persona of someone who knew just how good they were at everything. It hid the fear he had of failing, of being terrible, of being rejected...because rejection is a type of failure...and implies weakness. I can only talk about this stuff because Tim started seeing a shrink in his third year. He would talk to me about the stuff he learned. I was amazed that it all actually seemed to be working. By the time Judith and I went on our honeymoon, Tim had changed dramatically. He wasn't supremely confident, but he was the nice guy I had first seen with his family back in Ohio. He wasn't outgoing and he was still awkward, but it was a nice awkward. He was, in his words, an easier friend to have."

Abby smiled...and then sobered. "That's funny...the way you described him."

"What do you mean?"

"That sounds a lot like the identity Tim created for his undercover operation."

"Really?"

"Yeah. ...almost exactly." Abby looked at Matt and Judith. "It's like Tim was going undercover as himself."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs sat staring at his most recent project. It wasn't a boat. It was a lot smaller than a boat. He'd actually bought plans for it, wanting to make sure he did it right. Would it make any difference? Probably not. Those green accusing eyes were still on his desktop. He knew that anyone could get rid of them in a moment...but from the moment that he had filled out Tim's COBRA forms, something inside him had shifted. Not a lot...but enough to recognize how thoroughly he had screwed up. From day one. ...and that wasn't something he could say very often. Usually, his flubs were small, temporary things that could be easily rectified. This wasn't.

What he was doing now...it wasn't enough. This project wouldn't change the past. It wouldn't make Tim hate him any less. ...but maybe it could help Gibbs forgive himself. Probably not. Maybe, instead, this was a way of punishing himself. Working on a project that would never mean anything. Slave over making a thing of beauty, while knowing that it would only be despised.

That was how Tim had felt. He had worked hard and everything he'd done hadn't been enough. Gibbs wasn't talking about the undercover operation either. The operation should have been a moment where everyone cheered him on and helped him be as successful as was possible...giving him support after all the years he'd been in a support position himself.

Instead, it had been a moment of anxiety...with heavy dollops of doubt, irritation and resentment. They hadn't meant to...but they had set Tim up to fail. More than likely, all this would have been extraordinarily hard on Tim regardless of how much support. ...but would his mind have snapped had he felt able to express himself to the people who were supposed to be his backup?

"_I never had backup! You were _never_ backup for me! Not _once_!"_

What Tim had shouted at him in his blind rage had been nothing less than the truth. Sure, they were ready if something went wrong...but where Tim had _really_ needed the backup...he'd been abandoned. He never had anyone to tell him that it was okay to feel conflicted about using sex to get somewhere. He never had anyone to tell him that doing the work he had to do undercover did not make him wrong. He never had anyone to tell him that he'd gone too far in his persona.

Heck, he'd never had anyone _worry_ about where the persona had come from. It had no obvious flaws; so that was all that mattered...to the people who should have been paying attention.

It would have taken one question. One simple question and a lot of the problems could have been avoided.

"_McGee, where did you come up with this guy?"_

Eight words. Tim would have told them...at the beginning. He would have. ...unless, even then, he had been afraid of being rejected by his teammates.

Gibbs sighted along the board. It appeared level. Good.

As he worked on this pointless task, he felt as though he was getting closer to understanding Tim's mindset.

Maybe once he did that, he could ask Tim's forgiveness. ...but not until then.

Not until those green eyes on his computer ceased to fill him with deserved shame.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim heard the door open quietly and he tried to remain motionless, tried to make it appear that he was asleep.

"Tim?"

He'd failed.

"Tim, you're too tense to be asleep."

Tim sighed and rolled over. There was Dr. Lewis. He would ask questions. He would bring up what Tim desperately wanted to avoid talking about.

"Tim, have you slept at all the last few nights?"

There was no point in lying about it.

"No."

"Dr. Westhouse said you're losing weight."

"Yeah."

"Okay. Talk to me."

"Why? I don't have to," Tim said, but he couldn't muster up the same fire he'd had at the beginning.

Dr. Lewis seemed to sense that and sat down.

"Tim, don't you trust us anymore?"

"I trust you," Tim whispered. It was true. He did.

"Okay. Then, talk to me. What happened? What did your sister say that upset you so much?"

"It wasn't Sarah!" Tim said instantly. "It wasn't her fault! It was my fault."

"Okay. What?"

Tim shook his head, even as he felt Jewel's hand on his neck again. He shuddered at the sensation, even though he knew it was just in his head.

"Tim, what is it?"

Tim felt the tears on his cheeks and shook his head.

"I don't want to."

"I understand that, but, Tim, you can't keep hiding from whatever it is. You need to face it."

He remembered the day she'd actually drawn blood. She had apologized, but he hadn't ever been sure if she had meant it.

"Tim, you're safe here. Whatever you've been hiding, you can tell me."

Her face as she had realized how thoroughly she had misjudged him. Only when it was too late. She hadn't even looked betrayed...just surprised.

"Tim, talk to me. What are you afraid of?"

"Jewel," Tim whispered, hardly aware that he'd said the word.

There was silence and Tim found that he had to fill it.

"I liked it."

"Liked what?"

"What she did to me. ...what I did to her." Tim swallowed, feeling almost nauseous. He closed his eyes. "I liked it."

Another silence.

"...and I killed her. ...and I liked that, too."

Tim began to cry in shame.


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

_One week later..._

"Ah, Dr. Mallard, it's good of you to come."

Ducky smiled as he came into the hospital. "I could hardly do otherwise when you told me that Timothy wanted to speak with me. Do you know what it's about?"

Dr. Lewis shook his head. "I couldn't say. We've been slowly getting back to where we were before. Maybe he wants to talk about some revelations."

"I must say that I was surprised that Timothy changed his mind so quickly."

"It wasn't quick. The first breakthrough was last week...and since then, we've been going through some hard things. It was long and painful...and I called you as soon as he mentioned it for fear that he might change his mind again."

"Where is he?"

"Outside. Thank goodness. We couldn't get him to go out for a few days and he needs the physical boost of sunlight as well as just the freedom of the open air."

"Very well. Thank you."

Ducky walked out to the yard and saw Tim laying out, looking for all the world as though he was relaxing in a park...instead of a patient at a mental hospital.

"Timothy?"

"You got here fast," Tim said, staring up at the sky.

"They called me."

"I guess they didn't waste any time."

"Should they have?"

Tim sat up and pulled at a thick tuft of grass.

"I have to tell you some things, Ducky."

"Why?"

"Because you have to know the kind of person I am."

"I think I already do."

Tim looked up at him.

"Then...then, let me tell you what I've done and who I am. ...and you can tell me who I am...and what kind of person I am."

Ducky was surprised at the earnest expression in Tim's eyes. This wasn't a joke.

"Timothy, it's for _you_ to know who you are."

Tim was shaking his head before Ducky finished.

"No. No...you have to tell me...when you know..." Tim looked away. "When you know the...the horrible... When you know...you have to tell me who I am."

Ducky knelt down in the grass beside Tim.

"Then, tell me, lad. Say what you have to say. I'll listen."

"What I did with Jewel... I only hated it at first."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Sarah looked wistfully at her phone and the returned it to her pocket and ran out the door with her friends. She'd be here for three more weeks and then it was back to DC. She hoped Tim would speak to her again.

She hoped that Tim would be himself again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"After a while...it was what I wanted. ...even as that disgusted me."

"Why?"

"Jewel...she...she liked things that..." Tim shook his head. "I've done some...hinky things...but never like this. ...and I did...and I hated it... ...but at the same time...at the same time, it was so easy to do...to enjoy...even when I thought that I might throw up. She liked it when I hurt her."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Matt? Judith?"

They stood up nervously.

"Meet your new son."

Judith was there first, taking the tiny baby in her arms.

"Matt, look at him. He's perfect."

Matt joined her, wrapping his arms around them both.

"Welcome to the family," he whispered.

"He's so small."

"Only six pounds, but I don't think that will be a hindrance. He's healthy."

"It doesn't matter," Judith said. "It doesn't matter at all."

"Christopher Runo Tamson. You're beautiful," Matt said.

"Does she want–?" Judith began.

"No. She said she didn't want to see him."

"All right."

"He's all yours."

"We have a son, Matt. We have a son."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Jewel...she...liked hurting me. She would say she was sorry but she wasn't. ...and I never... I never told them what she was."

"What is that?"

"She watched me. When I was working. She hovered around me, making sure that I didn't do anything wrong. She failed there...but every time she came up behind me...she would...touch my neck, sometimes blow on it...just to watch me react. ...and I always did. I couldn't help it. I couldn't get away from her. ...but I didn't really want to anyway. I wanted her around."

"Why?"

"Because she's the only one who let me be who I chose to be. ...even though I didn't feel like I was choosing." Tim shook his head. "It doesn't make sense. I can't explain how I felt. ...not about that."

"Then, what?" Ducky asked, seeing Tim's growing discomfort.

"Every night, Ducky. Almost every night. I had sex with her and...and I know it had to happen, but it wasn't because _I_ wanted it to happen. It was because...because it had to. I had to...to... _do_ all that to her. It should have been...just the job. Something I did because it was necessary. ...and it was...but at the same time...I liked it."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony put in another movie. As the Lucasfilm logo came up, he smiled. Sometimes, it was great just to watch one of these movies and not think. This was one of those days.

It was hard not to think, though. He wondered how Tim was doing. He wasn't sure when he had really become so concerned about everything that happened to Tim.

_Since he went nuts and quit._

He tried to focus his attention on the screen.

...but it was hard.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"But she scared me, too. I spent so much time with her. So much time...and I...I wanted to be with her more than with...them. She was fun. She didn't...didn't ask for me to be anyone."

"Did you like her, Timothy?"

"Yes...no... I don't know." Tim looked up at the sky. Then, he looked away and whispered, "You shouldn't use people."

"Sometimes it's necessary."

Tim looked at Ducky earnestly. "No! You shouldn't use people because you like the sex! That's what I did! Yes, I had to get involved with her...but I didn't have to keep going back! I didn't have to do that! ...but I did it! I might as well have been using a prostitute...only her pay was the work I was doing. ...and then... ...then, Tony... he said..." Tim closed his eyes tightly.

"What, Timothy?"

"That's one way of breaking up. ...as if that's why I killed her! ...but it wasn't! ...but..."

"What, Timothy?"

"But I liked killing her. Just like having sex with her when I didn't have to. I could have done something else, but I killed her...because she didn't appreciate me enough, because she passed me over like everyone else does. I'm such a...it's sick! Twisted! Who _does _that?" Tim's voice cracked.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ziva slowed her pace and then walked to a bench on the side of the running trail. She remembered the first day that she and Tim had ended up running at the same time. It had been funny because she was usually so focused on her run that she didn't pay attention to anything besides the trail. Tim had actually shouted at her to get her attention.

Ziva smiled in recollection...and then she sobered and shook her head. How had she let her perceived superiority take the place of their friendship? What had been going through her mind that had made her believe that it was more important for her to be better than to be good at her job? ...than to be a good friend? What was wrong with her?

With a sigh, she stood up and resumed her run. It was hard to get back in the groove having interrupted her pace, but she managed fine.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was looking at his hands as if seeing them stained with blood.

"That's why you have to tell me who I am, Ducky," Tim said, tears in his voice. "Because I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't _think_ that. ...but I did. I did it. I liked it...and I don't know... I _need_ to be locked up. People aren't safe with me around. I do such horrible things. ...and...I...I killed Jewel because I wanted to."

"Timothy..."

Tim shook his head. "No, Ducky. You can't make this go away. The only way _I_ can is by focusing on everything else. It's better to breakdown than to...to see that. To remember her and how much she attracted and repelled me at the same time."

"You're mistaken, Timothy."

"What? You _can_?" Tim asked, managing to sound sarcastic even though his voice was choked.

"No, I can't make it go away. I never could. ...but you're mistaken that the only way to deal with it is by ignoring its existence. That hasn't helped you so far. What do you think you dream about if not the very things you refuse to deal with in the waking world?"

"It keeps me here," Tim said.

"Does Dr. Lewis know all this?"

Tim nodded slowly, staring blankly across the lawn. "He says that I can accept it. He's wrong. I can't. I can't accept the way I felt. Not now. I can't accept being the kind of person who felt only satisfaction when committing murder! What makes me any different from the people I was going after?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

He wanted this project to be unique. Even with the plans, it would be different. Gibbs looked over to the burnished metal sheets standing in the corner. He hadn't ever worked with metal in this way. It would be an experiment of the first order...particularly since he was still using his hand tools.

The wood he was currently smoothing was dark, almost black. It was a hard wood. Sturdy. Strong...and a pain in the neck to work with. This project would likely take months to finish.

All to the better. He needed the time.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Timothy, do you know what I see when I look at you now?"

Tim looked at Ducky and shook his head mutely, but his eyes conveyed the fear he felt, the disgust with himself...all those things which had combined to tear a good man down. He was still too thin. His eyes with the ever-present dark circles. More than those physical indications, there was something in the way he sat on the ground, the way he held himself. He constantly expected an attack, whether literal or figurative didn't matter. Tim was damaged. He was afraid of what he had done, that it had destroyed him.

"I see a young man who has made progress," Ducky said firmly even as Tim tried to deny it. "Let me finish, Timothy. I don't know if you could possibly understand how I felt that night you showed up on my front steps. I don't think I could describe it. I was horrified at how close you seemed to being lost. I feared you had been. I was terrified at the idea that you had managed to slip away from us. Now...now, Timothy, rather than losing control at the slightest provocation, you are cautious. Fearful, yes...but not lost. You look better than you did. You _are_ better. Fully? Perhaps not."

"Definitely not," Tim mumbled.

"Yes. But you have so much potential, so much ahead of you."

"What?" Tim asked. "I have...what? I can't go back to NCIS."

Ducky decided not to comment on that when he noticed Tim's instant tension at the mention of his former place of employment.

"I don't have a job. I don't have any prospects. I have friends, I guess...but for how long when they realize what scum I am?"

"I am not rejecting you, Timothy," Ducky said simply. "You have told me, and I am not rejecting you."

"Why not?" Tim asked. "Please, tell me why not. You should."

"No, I shouldn't. I don't reject friends on the basis of mistakes they made."

"It's hardly a mistake."

"Timothy, your mistake was keeping every fear you had, every uncertainty, every moment of anger buried so deeply that no one could help you. _That_ was your mistake. Burying all that, it festered and it changed you. No, you didn't become a whole other person, but you changed...as you had to do. To deal with all that was dropped on your plate, you had to change yourself. That change should have been monitored and it wasn't. It almost became permanent...but it is not."

"I killed her, Ducky."

"Could you have done something to save her life at that moment? I couldn't venture to say. You saved your teammates, Timothy, even while you hated every breath they took. You still saved them. That says much for you, I think."

Tim shook his head.

"Yes, it does. Your actions after were perhaps not the most kind, but they were also much less vicious than they could have been. You could have done much worse than to insult them. You could have done much worse than yell at Gibbs. You could have done much worse...and done so with ease. You chose not to do that. That is a good thing and something that deserves acknowledgment."

"I shouldn't have been the one to go undercover. They were right," Tim said. "They were right about me."

"No, Timothy. It's not about that. It is about how you recover. You are on the way now...and that kind of blame will not help you."

"Am I really?"

"Yes."

"I still have the nightmares."

"Those will fade as you face what you did and the results of those actions."

"How can you not despise me for this?"

"Because I'm your friend, Timothy. That matters. You are a good man and generally a good friend."

Tim smiled a little but then he looked back down to the grass.

"I don't understand something."

"What's that?"

"Why is it that you can accept all these horrible things I've done...and still be my friend... and my team couldn't accept anything _good_ that I did?"

Ducky sighed. "I don't know, lad."

"I just don't understand."


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

_Three weeks later..._

"Aha! I think today is the day, Tim!" Dr. Westhouse announced as he ushered Tim to the scales.

"What's so special about today?" Tim asked. He had become more solemn although he'd rallied from his recent emotional trough.

"We're going to move up in the world. Get on the scale and let's see if I'm right."

Tim smiled a little and stepped on the scale.

"Okay. Fifty..." The indicator said that wasn't enough. "One hundred." Still too light. "Here's the big moment, Tim. Are you ready?"

For a moment, Dr. Westhouse wasn't sure if Tim would react at all, but then he dredged up what must be a shadow of his former smile.

"Bring it on."

"We were almost there last time, but then you lost some ground. So...here we go." Dramatically, he moved the slide to 150. It wasn't heavy enough. "Yes! You've broken the 150 mark, Tim!"

"By how much?"

"Let's see." He moved the smaller slide over...and over...and over. "One hundred fifty four pounds, Tim. That's excellent."

"And in order to be _normal_?"

"You're within the normal range now. I'd say that you could still stand to gain a few more pounds, but you're no longer in danger of physical breakdown; so if you'd prefer to remain at this weight, that's fine...but you need to watch yourself and not let yourself lose again. This is a respectable weight, but with your build, I'd say that you want to stay here and not go lower. No more intentionally starving yourself. You are not allowed."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Good. Tim, wait."

Tim had been about to leave.

"What?"

Dr. Westhouse pulled out a couple of sheets.

"I want to show you something before you go."

"What?"

"Are you familiar with what a normal heartbeat looks like? Normal respiration?"

"Not exactly. I've...I've seen people on monitors before. I've seen my own stats before."

"Okay." He gave a sheet to Tim to look at. "These are all the details from a person in good health. This is what we like to see when we examine someone. Good heart rate, good respiration, blood pressure. This is a person who has been taking good care of themselves and it shows. Now, this person was slightly overweight, but they were still in good health." He pulled out another sheet. "Here are your vitals from today. See how close you are to the same standard? ...just a lot lighter."

Dr. Westhouse watched as Tim perused the chart, his eyes flicking back and forth from his own details to the chart he'd pulled.

"Yes, I see."

"Okay, now...this is from your first physical, from the day you checked in." He pulled out the last sheet and watched as Tim's eyes scanned over it and then widened slightly. "You had poor respiration, your blood pressure was too high, your heart rate was high and irregular. You were headed for a breakdown. Every test showed someone in extremely poor health, someone who had been pushed to the limits. Your body can't take that kind of stress and it had been ongoing. Do you know whose chart I showed you first?"

Tim shook his head, still comparing the details. His mind was engaged on what Dr. Westhouse was showing him.

"The first chart...is yours."

Tim's eyes moved up.

"Mine?"

"Yes, from about three years ago. That's what your body was like. ...and thankfully, it can be again...if you'll let it. Tim, you're here to treat your mind, but your mind can't recover if you neglect and abuse your body. Remember that. When one suffers, both do." He patted Tim on the back and opened the door. "When you leave here...you won't have people watching you to make sure you do what you're supposed to do. You know what needs to happen, Tim. Stop punishing yourself and let _all_ of you heal."

Tim gave him a startled look. "I thought you were just a doctor."

"I am...but I'm surrounded by shrinks all day. I pick stuff up."

Tim smiled. "Thanks, Dr. Westhouse."

"You're welcome. Now...go gain a few more pounds, okay?"

"I thought you said I didn't have to."

"You don't. ...but do it anyway. It's better for you."

Tim stared down the hallway for a few moments and then nodded. "Okay. Okay, Doc."

"Good man."

"I'm trying to be," he said softly and walked away.

Dr. Westhouse watched him go and nodded to himself. Then, he walked into the other examination room.

"Patsy, how nice to have you grace my presence once again! Let's see how the stitches are coming along, all right?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"How's it going, Tim?" Dr. Lewis asked.

Tim shrugged.

"That good, huh?"

"No more secrets to tell. No more yelling. No more of the guilt...at least nothing that you don't already know about. ...It's like...like after I took that ecstasy pill and nearly killed myself doing it. I just felt empty. That's how I feel now." Tim looked up. "How am I supposed to feel?"

"_Supposed _to feel?" Dr. Lewis repeated. "You're not _supposed_ to feel _anything_ in particular. Everyone deals with these kinds of problems in their own ways. This...numbness?"

Tim nodded.

"This numbness is natural. You've been operating on a high level of emotional stress for a very long time, Tim. I'd wager that you didn't really have any downtime from the moment you got your assignment. You were dealing with all this crap on your own and that put an extra layer of stress on you. Now, you're not dealing with it on your own. You've been getting help. The release from what you had come to expect is naturally going to seem empty in comparison. What you need to do now is start filling it up with positive things."

"Like what?"

"Like life, Tim. ...and you're not going to find life in here. You've been here for over four months. That's a long time for this place. We don't normally admit patients for more than a month or two. We have a few special cases...like yourself...but the goal is not to get you to live here. It's to prepare you to live out there. That's what you need to do next. You need to start living, Tim."

"I'm not ready."

"Not completely, but you know that we don't just kick you out and say good luck. There's a long process...but it's one I think you're ready for."

"I...I don't _feel_ ready," Tim said, feeling his throat tighten. "I still have nightmares sometimes. I'm still angry. I have...have those flashbacks sometimes. I still..."

"Yes, you do...and that's okay, Tim. You're allowed to feel angry. You're allowed to have nightmares and flashbacks as you continue to deal with everything."

"Do you really think I can go?"

"Yes."

"Shouldn't I be more confident?"

"Of course, you should," Dr. Lewis said. "I'm the shrink who's telling you that you're ready. You should believe everything I say."

Tim laughed softly.

"Seriously, though, Tim. You need to figure out who you'll be staying with."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not ready for being by yourself. What will happen is that you'll still spend most of every day here in therapy with us and then you'll spend the evening and night away from here. You need to have someone with you overnight, just in case. It can be one of your friends, your family...but you do need to stay around here so we can continue your therapy. We'll do the outpatient thing for a few weeks, see how you're doing and then hopefully cut it back to daily sessions with me and then weekly. It's a long process, but getting out of the hospital is a huge step."

"Gargantuan," Tim whispered.

Dr. Lewis smiled at the whistling in the dark Tim was doing. The fear had always been lurking just beneath the hatred and anger. Tim had still refused any suggestion of speaking with his former coworkers, but the intense hatred had faded even if his anger and resentment hadn't disappeared. Tim was still very tense with every mention of _them_ as he said. He even avoided their names. As traumatic as the operation had been, Dr. Lewis was firmly convinced that the worst part of it had _not_ been everything Tim had been forced to do but the total abandonment he had felt from his team. The complete lack of support when he had desperately needed it...and _known_ he needed it...that was the hardest thing for him to accept and would take the longest to solve.

He was just glad that they had the time. He was certain that Tim would be dead at this point if they hadn't been able to get him to accept help.

"Tim, will you trust me?" he asked now.

"I trust you."

"Okay. Then, trust me when I say you're ready for this step."

"When?"

"Two weeks."

"So soon?"

"That will put you at nearly five months here. It will give you a chance to figure out where you'll stay, how you'll get to and from here, all the logistics."

"I have a car."

"I think that we should hold off on you driving for the first couple of weeks."

"Why?"

"You'll more than likely experience an increase in the nightmares and flashbacks when you first leave. This is not because of weakness on your part but because of the stress of facing the world again, even in a limited capacity. Accept that it's going to happen and they'll likely be more muted and more short-lived than they would be otherwise."

Tim nodded, but the fear was in his eyes.

"Tim, you can do this. You can."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I don't have any doubt."

"It's funny. It took me almost dying to get me to listen to Ducky when he told me I needed to come here. Now, I don't want to leave."

"Coming here was necessary. ...but leaving is also necessary. Both pieces are important for complete recovery. Will you take the next step?"

Tim looked down and then up at the ceiling...and finally at Dr. Lewis.

"Okay. I'll leave."


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter 42**

_Two weeks later..._

"Ready to go, Tim?" William asked.

"No." Tim was sitting on his bed, his bagged packed on the floor. "I don't feel ready."

"Change can be hard sometimes, but I think you're ready."

"Thanks."

"Besides, it's not like you won't be seeing a lot of us anymore. You'll be back tomorrow, in fact."

"I know."

"Come on, Tim. That horde of people waiting for you outside might decide to storm the battlements."

Tim smiled. He knew who would be there because he had told them who he wanted to be there. He felt guilty that he had excluded Abby, but he still didn't feel as though he could face her. Not yet. Maybe...maybe after. After what? He didn't know...he just knew that he wasn't ready to face Abby.

"Deep breath and stand up," William urged.

Tim nodded and stood up. He grabbed his bag and walked out, with a last glance at the room he was leaving behind. There was no sign of anything personal in that room. No sign of the sleepless nights, the fears, the rages, the moments when he had threatened to make them all regret...something he couldn't define. It was just an empty room. The only thing he was taking with him that he hadn't brought was the teddy bear. He had tried to give it back to Dr. Lewis but he had insisted that Tim keep it. It was safely hidden from view in his luggage.

He followed William to the main entrance. Tim hadn't come to this point in the entire time he had been at the hospital. He had pretended that there _was_ no entrance. All that existed was the hospital itself and the property around it. Now, that was no longer true. There was life outside the hospital. He paused at the door.

"Go on, Tim. We'll see you tomorrow."

Tim nodded once more, took a deep breath and stepped forward. The doors opened automatically. Then, the outer doors opened automatically as well and Tim stepped out into the world. He had only seconds to digest the momentous event before his welcoming committee swarmed him.

The first to reach him was Sarah who had recently returned from England. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

"Tim! Tim! I missed you. I really missed you!" she whispered.

Tim hugged her back for a few seconds before gently removing her arms.

"I missed you, too, Sarah."

"You look...different," she said softly.

"I am different...but I'm better than I was."

Sam rolled over. "So...who are you going to ride with, Tim?" he asked, smiling. "You have your choice."

Naomi hugged Tim quickly and smiled in silent understanding when she let him go. Tim looked around, feeling slightly overwhelmed. Ducky, Matt and Judith were all standing back a little while Tim greeted his family. Then, he noticed that Matt and Judith weren't alone.

"Is that Christopher?" he asked.

Judith came forward. "This is Christopher. Do you want to hold him?"

Tim hesitated.

"He won't break. I promise. He's even asleep; so you won't have to worry about him crying...like we do."

Tim took the tiny baby in his arms and smiled at him. "Any regrets?"

Matt shook his head. "Not a one. I could stand having more sleep, but I wouldn't trade this for the world."

"He's cute."

"He's perfect...and he's a little monster," Matt said. "But we love him."

Tim looked as the sleeping infant, laying so securely in his arms. ...and he felt tears come to his eyes. He handed Christopher back to Judith...and then shook his head.

"What is it, Tim?"

"I'm not ready. I can't go," he said and then began to turn back to the hospital. To his surprise, Ducky was there, smiling in understanding.

"Wait, Timothy."

"I'm not ready, Ducky."

Ducky looked beyond Tim and smiled. "Sarah, would you mind going on into the hospital and asking if Dr. Lewis can come out here for a few moments?"

"Okay."

Tim watched Sarah go back where he wanted to be. He stared over Ducky's shoulder.

"Timothy, life has to go on."

"Not yet."

"Yes. Now. If not now, when?" Ducky put his hands on Tim's arms and slowly turned him back to face his friends and family.

"Another time."

"You are not a plague on the world, Timothy."

Dr. Lewis came out less than a minute later. He must have been waiting inside. Tim was a little embarrassed for acting just how they had expected him to act, but he wanted the safety of the hospital. Nothing could get to him there if he didn't want it to. He didn't have that control out here.

"Tim, you're having second thoughts?"

Tim turned around to face Dr. Lewis.

"I can't go ."

"Yes, you can. Remember? We talked about this. What are you doing?"

Tim remembered now. They had sat together and gone through every reaction that Tim might have to leaving the hospital. This had come up.

"Hiding."

"And the solution?"

"Trust."

"Exactly."

Tim managed a sheepish half smile and turned back to those who had come to see him.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Naomi said. "We understand...as much as we can possibly understand."

"This is just the first step, Tim," Dr. Lewis said. "There's no rushing but holding back when you don't need to is just as dangerous. Let go and step forward."

Tim looked down at his bag on the ground. At least he still had everything he'd had before.

"Okay. Let's go."

Together, they all walked away. Tim rode with Ducky over to Matt and Judith's home where they had a sort of muted celebratory dinner. Tim looked around the table at everyone who was there. He was glad they were there, but not too long before, there would have been a number of other faces here. Abby...and them. Jimmy would have been there, but had a night shift and couldn't make it. Tim figured that he probably didn't mind missing it. Sarah probably would be happier missing it. As for the others...they had seen him so much worse that it didn't matter. He was greatly improved.

After the dinner, they talked for a while and then went their separate ways. Naomi and Sam would be staying in a hotel overnight and then heading back to Ohio. Sam had classes to teach and Naomi had work as well. Sarah had some last meetings with her advisor, but she'd be heading off to graduate school in not too long. Tim said good-bye to Matt and Judith...and got in the car with Ducky. He'd be staying with him for a few weeks.

Sam hugged Tim good-bye and left him with a quote.

"'Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing. Use the pain as fuel, as a reminder of your strength.' August Wilson."

"Thanks, Dad."

"I love you, Tim. No matter what."

"I love you, too."

Then, they all departed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was late, and Ducky was heading to his bedroom when he noticed that there was a light on in Tim's temporary quarters. He paused, debated briefly as to whether or not Tim would welcome the interruption and decided that he would. He knocked on the door.

"Come in, Ducky."

Ducky smiled to himself and opened the door.

"How are you doing, lad?"

"Okay," Tim said. He was sitting on the bed...with a green teddy bear in his arms.

"What is that?"

"Dr. Lewis gave it to me. He said it would help me sleep."

"And does it?"

"Sometimes."

"May I speak with you?"

"You already are," Tim said, smiling a little.

"True enough. May I continue?"

"Yeah." Tim shifted on the bed so Ducky could sit down beside him. It was the things like that which gave Ducky the most hope. Those little human gestures. "Ducky?"

"Yes, lad?"

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"It's great that you let me stay here, but..."

Ducky could see what was coming. "Timothy."

"...I couldn't ask my parents to stay. Sarah really doesn't want to deal with me like this...and..."

"Timothy."

"Matt and Judith have Christopher now. He's a handful, I know. He's not sleeping through the night yet. I just...I didn't have anyone else."

"Timothy, I know. I don't mind in the slightest."

"Are you sure?"

"Completely. I am flattered that you would wish to stay with me."

"You've been so...so understanding, Ducky. You had no reason to be. I was as rude to you as I was to everyone else. I invaded your home. I wasn't nice to you."

"I know, but there were extenuating circumstances, and you are now so much improved over your past behavior that I am willing to overlook it."

Tim nodded.

"Timothy, relax. No one is expecting you to change overnight, and I know that you have a lot to work through even now. If you give yourself the time, you can make it. Be patient with yourself."

"I'll try, Ducky."

Ducky leaned over and looked Tim in the eye. "That's why you'll make it."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs was finally satisfied with the smoothness of the plane. It had taken quite a while to get it to the necessary straightness and smoothness. He was happy with the result, however. He added the plank to the growing pile of smoothed and sanded wood. He would have to sand it again once he'd completed the assembly, but this way, he knew the thickness of all the boards.

One more step completed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The nightmares didn't go away quickly, but they began to fade. Even when they occurred, they were less likely to wake him screaming in terror. Tim took a taxi to the hospital every morning and Ducky picked him up in the evening, except on those days that saw him working late at NCIS. After two weeks, Tim began to realize that he wasn't doing anything for Ducky while he was staying there. He started doing chores around the house...quietly and unassumingly. Ducky made little comment on it. He said thank you...and that was all that was needed. After three weeks, Tim started to think about what he was going to do with his life now that he was no longer crazy nor working at NCIS. It was the first time he'd really thought about the future in almost a year.

By the time a month had passed, Dr. Lewis decided that Tim no longer needed to spend all of every day at the hospital. He cut it back to daily sessions...leaving Tim a lot of free time.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Jamie toasted everyone in the bar, showing off her engagement ring at every opportunity. Tony and Ziva watched her with amusement.

"I did not think Jamie knew how to be giddy," Ziva commented.

"Apparently, she's been storing it up to let it out now."

Then, she saw them and headed over.

"Hey! You made it! I'm glad! Have a drink! This is my fiancé, Nathan!"

"Nice to meet you," Tony said sincerely. "You'd better treat her right. I carry a gun."

"...and I do not need one," Ziva said...but then she smiled and held out her hand.

He shook it but looked a little wary.

"They're just kidding, Nate," Jamie said. "They haven't killed any of my friends yet."

"That's a relief."

Jamie then dragged Nate off to meet someone else and Tony watched them go...his smile slipping from his face. Ziva noticed.

"Ducky told us that he is doing well."

"Yeah. I'm glad."

"I miss him, too."

Tony nodded and then the smile returned and he began to mingle with the group. Ziva took a breath and did the same.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two weeks later..._

"Ducky?"

"Yes, Timothy?"

"You usually beat Abby to NCIS don't you?"

"Yes, often. Moreso now that the sun is rising later."

Tim smiled.

"I need to talk to her...if she'll let me."

"You think she won't?"

"I've been avoiding her for months, Ducky. Abby would be totally justified in hating me now."

"She may be slightly put out, but I think she will also be happy to see you. I have kept her apprised of your progress, but she herself said that she would let you make the first move."

"Then...could I get a ride to NCIS with you?"

"Certainly. Will you...be coming inside?"

Tim shook his head. "No, Ducky. I won't be."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. I can't face them, Ducky. I just can't. Even now...after all this time...thinking about them makes me angry. That's not why I'm going there."

"Very well. Is everything ready for your move?"

"Yes. I've spoken with my new landlord and the moving truck is ready."

"Mr. Palmer offered his services if you would like an extra pair of hands."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"Then...yeah...I'd appreciate it."

"I will pass on the message. This house will seem empty without you here, Timothy."

Tim smiled. "It's been nice having someone watching out for me, Ducky. I can't tell you how much I appreciate everything you done. You've sacrificed a lot for me."

"It was all worth it."

"Thanks, Ducky."


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43**

"Well, it appears that Abigail has beat us here after all," Ducky said with a glance at Tim who was sitting stiffly in the seat beside him. This marked his first return to the Yard in more than six months. No wonder he was a little anxious.

"Yeah."

"Do you want to come in and speak with her?"

Tim shook his head. "Will you ask her if she'll come out to the park? I'll wait for her."

"I will do that. You could come into the building, Timothy."

"No, I couldn't." Tim opened the door and got out of the car.

Ducky watched him walk away and then headed into NCIS. He wouldn't admit it to Tim, but he was a little worried about this conversation Tim felt he needed to have with Abby. He still had moments where he was obviously afraid of any member of the fairer sex. However, he could also acknowledge that it was probably necessary for Tim to take further steps. Abby needed to see him, too. By the time the doors opened, admitting him to Abby's lab, Ducky had convinced himself.

Abby had obviously arrived only recently herself, with all the machinery in the lab still warming up. Good. That meant it wouldn't be much of an interruption to ask her to go outside.

"Good morning, Abigail."

Abby turned around and smiled. "Good morning, Ducky. What brings you here?" Then, her eyes widened. "Is something wrong?"

Ducky smiled. "No, not at all. I come with a message."

"From Tim?"

"Yes."

"What?" Abby asked, eager and yet nervous at the same time.

"He's outside and wishes to speak with you...if you're willing."

Abby cocked her head to the side. "He's...outside?"

"Yes, in the park."

"Right now?"

"Yes. He wanted to talk to you, but he recognizes that you might be too..." Abby turned around and rushed out of the lab. "...angry to speak with him," Ducky finished to himself and smiled before heading down to Autopsy. Whatever came of this, it was not for him to interfere.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat under a tree in Willard Park, waiting to see if Abby was going to come out. He figured that Ducky would come out if Abby said no. He just had to be patient and wait.

Then, the front doors opened and he saw Abby. She was walking but with the kind of repressed energy that said she was ready to explode into motion at the first provocation.

When she reached him, she didn't say anything as he stood. They looked at each other in silence and then sat down, side by side, not looking at each other.

"Hi, Tim," Abby said.

"Hi, Abby."

"You're looking better."

"Thanks."

"Ducky said you wanted to talk to me."

"Yeah."

"What did you want to say?"

"Sorry, first of all."

"For what?"

"For avoiding you."

"Why did you?"

"Because I was afraid."

"Why? What did _I_ do?"

"Nothing."

"Then, why?"

Tim looked at his hands and then at NCIS, looming across the street...the symbol of another life.

"Because...of everyone at NCIS, you're the only one who expressed any dislike of Thomas, my persona."

"Why was that a problem?"

"Because when I came back, I had decided that I wanted to _be_ Thomas because he was the one who was able to keep everyone who dismissed him at bay. Tim was hurt by others' actions. Thomas was angry. I knew that if you spent any time with me, you'd realize what I was doing...and you...you wouldn't like it."

"I wouldn't have...but I wouldn't have hated you for it."

"I know."

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"Matt said...he talked with me about what you were like in college."

"Were you surprised?" Tim asked, smiling a little.

"Yeah. I was. ...but it sounded like...like..."

"Like Thomas."

"Yeah. Is that–?"

"That's who he was. He was me if I hadn't changed. You wouldn't have liked me in college. ...but that wasn't the only reason I was staying away from you."

"Why then?"

"I was afraid. Afraid of what you might do...afraid of what _I_ might do."

"Is that because of Julia Westin?"

"Yeah."

"Did you love her, Tim?"

"Not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

Tim took a deep breath and sat up straight. "Please, Abby, I'm not ready to tell you everything that I did to her and with her. I don't think you're ready to hear it, either."

"That bad?"

"From my point of view, yes."

"Okay."

"It's taken a long time for me to be able to separate what happened on the op from my real life. I'm sorry that you had to suffer for it."

Abby still didn't look at him, but she held out her hand. Tim took it and held it tightly.

"Are you okay now, Tim?"

"I'm getting there."

"Are you coming back?"

"No."

"Not ever?"

"Not that I can imagine."

"Why not?"

"Because I still hate them, Abby...for everything they did. I still hate them."

"I'm sorry, Tim."

"It's not your fault."

"I'm still sorry. You love NCIS."

"I did. I don't anymore."

"What are you going to do instead?"

That was the question, of course. Tim had been working on answering it to his own satisfaction for a few days.

"Well, Matt is having me sub for one of his IT guys. So I'll have some income for a few weeks."

"Then?"

"Then, I'll have to find something else. I honestly don't know what else I'm going to do. I'm going to move...tomorrow, actually."

"What?" Abby's grip on Tim's hand tightened. He covered it with his free hand.

"Not away from here, just to a different apartment."

"Why?"

"It's something I'd been thinking about before, but now...I just need to move."

Silence. Tim couldn't bring himself to look and see what Abby might feeling.

"Do you need any help?"

"No. Unless you want to help. Ducky is helping. Jimmy offered, too. Matt and Judith will be trading off taking care of their baby."

"I'd like to."

"Okay. Tomorrow morning. Nine o'clock."

"Okay."

Silence.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I hug you now?"

Tim smiled. "Yes."

Abby slid closer and put her arms around him. Tim wound his own arms around her, remembering for a moment how Jewel had felt in his arms...and this was infinitely better. Abby was comforting, not challenging. Tim closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the closeness just for a while.

"Abby?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you didn't like Thomas."

Abby's arms tightened around him. "I'm glad you're not him."

"Me, too."

Another long silence.

"Abby?"

"What?"

"Would you tell them something for me?"

"Tim, don't make me do it. I'm sure it's not a happy message."

"No, but I'm not going to yell at them."

Abby pulled away and finally made eye contact.

"Please, Tim. I don't want to tell them. Will you do it yourself? Please? I'll come with you and be with you, but I don't want to be the messenger."

Tim looked at NCIS. He had told Ducky he couldn't go in there.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"So, how long will you be honeymooning?" Tony asked with a leer.

Jamie rolled her eyes. "Two weeks. You'll have to make do. The wedding has been driving us all crazy and we'll be glad to have it done."

"It will be beautiful, though, will it not?" Ziva asked.

Jamie stood up with a file in her hand. "With my mom in charge, absolutely. All right, I've got my change of address forms and my name change forms. If HR makes me file another form, I'm going to scream." She headed up the stairs.

Ziva laughed and then looked over briefly as the elevator dinged. That brief look became a long look.

"McGee," she said in shock.

Tony's head jerked up at the name. Sure enough. With Abby slightly behind him, Tim walked into the bullpen. Tony was shocked to see him, shocked at how he looked. Tim had looked pretty rough while undercover, but that was because he had to. What he could see in Tim now were the remnants of a physical breakdown. The strain still showed in his eyes, in the lines on his face. He was too skinny still, even more than he had been as Thomas. The biggest change, however, was the absolute coldness in his expression as he met Tony's gaze. There was no warmth at all, perhaps a bit of sadness, but it was all cold.

Tony glanced at Ziva. She was half out of her seat.

"Hi," Tim said, looking at them all, including Gibbs who had not stood up but was giving Tim his attention, expression as inscrutable as ever.

"McGee...welcome back," Tony said awkwardly.

"I'm not back. I know you're busy. I just have a couple of things I need to say and then I'll let you get back to work."

"What is it, McGee?" Ziva asked.

"First, I'm sorry about what I did to your computers. It was childish and I shouldn't have done it."

There was a long pause.

"Is that all?" Tony asked.

"No."

Tony felt as though there was too much silence...and so he did what he always did: started talking.

"I figured you wouldn't want to be on the team again, McGee, but there's no reason why you can't come back to NCIS. I mean, you could–"

"I'm not here to come back," Tim said coldly. "I have no interest in coming back, and I wish you would stop trying to make yourself feel better."

Tony swallowed and subsided.

"Is there something else, then?" Ziva asked tentatively. If the situation had been any less dour, Tony would have laughed at the tone of Ziva's question.

"I don't know if you guys would even care to know or try, but I'm moving tomorrow. Please don't try to find out where I'm living. Please don't try to seek me out. I don't want to see you. I can't forgive you. I can't forget. So...if you care at all, just leave me alone."

Suddenly, it struck Tony just how mad Tim had been, how hurt he had been. In order for him to still be this angry so long after the op had ended... This wasn't the hot, irrational anger of the time immediately after the end. It was a coldly sane anger that wouldn't fade until he felt it was time to let it go. ...and clearly, he didn't. For the first time, Tony saw how bad it must have been for Tim to do the op without the help he had expected. He'd always known that Tim didn't work the same way he did, but he had ignored that. Finally, he began to understand.

Tim looked at Gibbs. "Thank you for helping with the COBRA forms," he said.

There was no warmth, just acknowledgment of what had been done.

"You're welcome, McGee," Gibbs said.

"Okay. That's all I have to say." Tim looked at Abby and smiled. It was a genuine smile, Tony noticed. He saw Ziva's face and saw the hurt in her eyes. She noticed the emotion as well. Tim was genuinely happy to see Abby. He was not at _all_ happy to see the rest of them.

Tim headed for the elevator. Before he knew what he was doing, Tony got up and followed him. Tim turned around just before he pushed the button.

"What?"

"McGee...I'm sorry," Tony said.

Tim looked him in the eye, unnervingly. It was as though Tim was analyzing everything about him from the words to the tenor of his voice...to his stance. Tony waited. Finally, Tim let out a small laugh. He even smiled, but there was no happiness conveyed.

"It's too late for that," he said. "It's much too late to be sorry."

Then, he pushed the button for the elevator and stepped on. As the doors closed, he left his last words.

"I don't forgive you."

Then, Tim was gone. Tony stared at the elevator doors for a long moment. Tim hadn't left him speechless very often. ...but he had the first time he'd met him, Tony remembered now. Almost in the same place.

"_I've uh… got a lunch date with Abby," Tim said. _

_Tony laughed. "I've got to see this. I'll take you to her!"_

"_Thanks."_

"_Thanks, what?"_

"_Tony?"_

_They walked to the elevator. "Sir. I already warned you, Abby's not your type."_

_Tim was not to be put off. He was so earnest. "Well, I'd like to find out for myself."_

_Tony put an arm on his shoulders and said patronizingly. "Yeah, listen kid uh… I don't want to hurt your feelings but you're not exactly Abby's type."_

_To his surprise, Tim just smiled and faced him._

"_I've taken care of that. Remember that urge we were talking about?" He grinned and looked back over his shoulder. "I went with Mom."_

_Then, he got on the elevator and the doors closed, leaving Tony shocked and stunned that the greenie could have done something so unexpected._

It turned out that Tim still had the ability to leave Tony speechless. After a few more seconds, he turned around and headed back to his desk. Ziva was standing still, looking after Tim. Gibbs was staring at his monitor. Abby managed a weak smile before she fled the scene.

Tony sat down and thought about why this was all such a shock. Why was he surprised that Tim was gone? Tim had been gone for months. He had been replaced.

_...because no one leaves the team unless they're dead. They never leave permanently._

Even Gibbs hadn't been able to stay away. Ziva had left twice but come back. ...but Tim was gone, and he understood now that Tim had no intention of _ever_ returning. They had all screwed up so badly that he saw no value in even trying.

Tim was gone and he wasn't coming back. ...and Tony regretted it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim walked out of NCIS and took a deep cleansing breath. It had been hard to face them, hard to see them all again. Hard to be back in that building, back in that place where he had once belonged.

Still, he was glad it was done. Abby had been right. It was his job to let them know what was going on. Now, he was free.

Free. That was a strange new word in his vocabulary. He was free to figure out his life, figure out what he really wanted out of his life. He was free to determine who and what he wanted to be. The dead wood had been cut away and the good had been kept, but he was free now to decide what was going to happen next.

As he walked off the Yard to hail a taxi, Tim smiled to himself. The world was full of possibilities. Maybe he could finally shuck away the shackles of the past.

FINIS!

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for hanging on to the bitter end! There will be a sequel to this, entitled _Not Destroyed_. It's already in the works and I hope to get it done sooner rather than later. I have never posted a story to that isn't completed already, but if you would like me to start posting and then post chapters as I complete them, please either say so in a review or in a PM to me. Because I know that I haven't really left things completely resolved, I'm willing to bend my generally-ironclad rule of not posting until it's finished. I can't make any guarantees about when the story will be done.


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